The Valiant
by Unknown Soldier Shadow
Summary: Cranepaw, a young apprentice during ShadowClan's heyday, is forced to grow up too quickly after the leader's son Brokentail kills his mother. Shadows whisper in his ears, urging him to vengeance, but will his heart allow him to kill another cat?
1. Prologue

**Heeeeey!**

**So remember that one time when I said I wasn't going to write another Warriors fanfiction?**

**Yeah...that lasted a long time. XD**

**So here's the dilly. Me and Fwirl (it's just Fwirl), are writing kind of matching Warriors fics to practice our characters before Camp NaNoWriMo in a couple months, so we're writing these novellas. It's a side-project, as I mostly am going to focus on Float, but I'll still have regular updates. In fact, I will be updating every Sunday to make sure they say regular. SO THERE.**

**Anyhoo. This is set in old ShadowClan. Like, the old forest. Raggedstar's ShadowClan. I had to go through and check to see who would still be alive, and who was related to who, and who was the deputy and BLAH. So much research. So here's the product. **

**His name was Cranepaw. And he had a very sad story.**

**"Cowards die many times before their deaths.**  
**The valiant never taste of death but once."**

_**Julius Caesar,**_** Act 2, Scene 2**

* * *

The wind coming off the lake was bright and sharp today as it mixed with the pine needles. The old she-cat yawned, stretching her bones atop an old dried log, her dull fur soaking in the sun. She closed her eyes and just _breathed, _inhaling prey and cat and dark earth smells.

It was much different than in her kithood, this ShadowClan. The lake was new, foreign and an entirely unknown entity, but it had grown on her over the many seasons. She could feel the stars sprinkling across those waters, even in the daytime. So beautiful.

She often came to this little hollow, right near ThunderClan territory. She could scent their patrol passing by, but they should stay away. They would know the consequences of trespassing—even in this ShadowClan.

She sighed through her nostrils, just a slight sound. It was melancholy, she thought. Very melancholy. The past spread out behind her, golden and dusty like bright-headed flowers heavy with pollen. Forgotten and lost treasures. But she clung to the most important ones. That was all she asked of her elderliness.

"He-e-ey!" The word was drawn out into a singsong. "There you are!"

She repressed the desire to roll her eyes as the kits bundled into view, tumbling over themselves. Two of them, dark-pelted and striped, the way ShadowClan cats should be. White cats stuck out too much, but she supposed that wasn't a problem in this new territory. There were trees to hide behind here. There were no such luxuries back in the old forest.

"We were looking for you," one, a dark golden she-cat, piped up.

"Is that so?" the old she-cat asked, purring. "And for what reason?"

"Huntsong said we were being too annoying so she sent us to find you."

_Unsurprising, _she thought fondly. The queen probably had had enough of her sprightly kits. But aloud, she said, "I'm guessing you're expecting a story, then, Hazelkit?"

Hazelkit's green eyes lit up. "Yes, please! Nightkit, tell her you want a story!"

Her brother, black as his namesake, said shyly, "I'd like to hear a story, please." He was by far the calmer one. His mother wouldn't want to tear her fur out from this one, for sure, the old she-cat thought.

Stretching her old bones until they popped, she asked, "What would you like to hear?"

Hazelkit leaned forward, energy in every line of her body, her green eyes dazzlingly bright. "_Battles," _she breathed.

"Which?"

"Any! I want to hear about ShadowClan winning! How we're the best, the best Clan in the whole world!" She strutted around, stretching each forepaw out in front of her as she did so, her chest puffed. "I mean, it wouldn't be a lie. Those ThunderClan squirrel-hunters look like nothing next to us! And the fishy RiverClan cats, and those scrawny little WindClan cats—"

Nightkit said, "You shouldn't talk about any other cat being scrawny when the wind can carry you away, Hazelkit."

She shot him a dirty look, pausing in mid-step. "You're not much bigger than me!"

Nightkit ignored her jibe. He was watching the old she-cat, his expression just as interested as his sister's, but he didn't burn as brightly. A calm low flame. Something that would last. Someone who would learn. Hazelkit would have to burn off her energy some more before she could be apprenticed to even the most patient ShadowClan cat.

"Can you tell us something you haven't told us before?" he asked curiously, seeming shy again.

Hazelkit came back. "Something you've never told _any _cat. A new story," she amended, tail flicking wildly behind her. "We want to be special."

The old she-cat let out a rusty purr, rubbing Hazelkit across the ears with her forepaw. "Why, my dear, you are already very special."

Hazelkit ducked from beneath her paw, her fur riled up. "Don't treat us like kits! We're almost apprentices!"

"Ah," the old she-cat said very seriously. "I forget sometimes. You're getting so big."

Hazelkit puffed out her chest again. Even little Nightkit looked happy.

_A new story. _Those words hadn't rang in the old she-cat's mind for a long time. What could she tell them that she hadn't told them a thousand times before? All her stories had dried up in her, like a sun-baked puddle.

Behind her closed eyes, a young cat flashed, blinding white light behind him. The sweep of his long tail, the hunched shoulders, the neat ears. He hadn't appeared so strongly to her in a long time.

She opened her eyes, her old heart spluttering in her chest, as if she were young again.

"I have a story for you," she said, surprised that the words came out so quickly.

"A new story?" Hazelkit looked suspicious.

"A new story," she promised, settling more comfortably onto her branch. "An old story, but it will be new to you."

Hazelkit laid down, too, her tiny front paws crossed. Sounding distinctly leaderly, she said, "You can begin."

Nightkit snuggled in close next to his sister, eyes bright against the lake's gleam.

The old she-cat laughed. "It begins a long time ago, back when ShadowClan lived in the old forest. We were feared, respected. No one crossed us that wanted to keep their fur on their backs. Our leaders were cold and cruel, their hearts blackened by hunger and fear.

"That was the ShadowClan of my youth, little ones. And the strongest memories of that time were of a very brave young cat. His name was Cranepaw. This is his story."

* * *

**Okay, revised short first chapter. The real chapter 1 is right next to this one. XD**

**This is gonna be a short story, though. Like, 40-50K. A nice simple read.**

**But I must warn you, it's gonna be angsty. So I hope you like the angst. XD**

**'Ta!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**

**(Don't forget to go read Fwirly's fic, too! It's really really good, I promise!)**


	2. Chapter 1

**Don't get too excited, readers. This is the same chapter but broken up. XD**

**Okay, this has been fixed now. Thanks, reviewer Gale, for pointing out the whole prologue-y thing! This makes much more sense. X3**

* * *

Cranepaw ducked his head against the gale, his ears pressing flat against his head, his eyes closed tightly shut. Each pawstep was hard-going, and the boggy ground rose up to cover each white paw until they were stained brown as the peat.

ShadowClan's new-leaf wasn't soothing. It was just as horrible as the past leaf-bare but without the added bonus of snow. Instead, the rain turned the ground into mush, and with each step, Cranepaw had to yank his paw back out of the sucking mud.

His mentor Nightpelt turned around from the patrol. "Do you need help?" he asked kindly. He'd only just gotten assigned to Nightpelt two moon cycles before but the senior warrior had been absolutely invaluable.

It didn't help that Cranepaw hero-worshipped him. ShadowClan had a lot of strong, powerful warriors, but none were as nice or patient as Nightpelt. Cranepaw felt like all his dreams had come true at once when Raggedstar had called Nightpelt forward from the crowd. Nightpelt would make him a good warrior, one who would make a name in ShadowClan. And then all the kits would look up to _him _instead, and think of how they wanted to be _him._

_Pointless dreams, _Cranepaw thought miserably but he tried to shove that away. He _would _be a great warrior. He had to be.

Nightpelt was talking to Crowtail causally, his thick pads making the pathway easy to traverse; Cranepaw tried to leap into his pawsteps but he sank too deep. Nightpelt's paws were much larger than his.

Crowtail's apprentice Racingpaw was having the same difficulty. Racingpaw was Cranepaw's best friend, and had been since they were born. Their mothers were best friends, too, so they had always been together.

Racingpaw, making sure his mentor wasn't listening, leaned over to Cranepaw and whispered, "This is terrible. Why would they make us go _first _on the dawn patrol and _then _make us walk through this sludge? I'm turning all brown!"

"You're already brown," Cranepaw whispered back.

It was true, but Racingpaw's fur wasn't exactly the same color as the marsh. He was lighter, with a pale belly, so the mud showed up much better than Cranepaw's smoke-gray fur.

Racingpaw looked less than pleased with his friend's observation. "Do you think they'll take us hunting after this?"

Cranepaw shook his head, yanking hard to free a hind paw. "I dunno. Maybe. Maybe they'll take us to the drylands and let us do battle-training."

Racingpaw's eyes lit up. A trip to the drylands was few and far between. ShadowClan mentors preferred to train their apprentices in stealth, not full-out combat.

"Do you think so?" he asked, his voice a little too high.

Crowtail turned around, her expression stern. "May I remind you that we're close to the ThunderClan border?" she said. "Unless you want to bring Sunstar and his entire Clan down on our ears."

Racingpaw shrank back sheepishly. "Of course not, Crowtail."

Nightpelt looked at Cranepaw, his expression amused. "Just be quiet, okay? We're almost done. I know you're probably tired."

Cranepaw wondered if he could see that so clearly. His bones were achy with sleep, his eyes stinging with it. He longed to be back in the apprentices' den, curled up in a nest of soft, fragrant pine needles and feathers. Maybe he could even sneak over to the warriors' den and see his mother, Silversong.

A lot of the Clan didn't like her, Cranepaw knew. They thought she was a traitor, all because she had become mates with a RiverClan cat. His father.

She'd told Cranepaw a lot about his father when he was a kit, stories of how they'd met mostly. Silversong had been on an attacking patrol to RiverClan and nearly drowned. As she floated through the icy river, her consciousness bleeding away, she saw a bird on the bank. Tall and white and long-necked. A crane. It was the last thing she saw.

When she woke up, a RiverClan tom was watching over her. It had turned out that someone had attacked her while she was treading water and it had shoved her head beneath the surface. He'd plucked her out and brought her into a sheltered little nook in the reeds.

Silversong always said it was fate, that she would meet him. It didn't even matter she'd nearly died doing it. She said StarClan had stepped into her life and brought him to her.

So when she'd turned up expecting kits and didn't have a ShadowClan mate, Raggedstar knew something was wrong. He'd demanded the truth from her, threatening to exile both her and her unborn kit, and she'd told him everything.

As he promised, he didn't hurt her. But he made her an outcast within the Clan, and told everyone what she'd done. No one would trust her with anything again.

But that hadn't lasted. Silversong was a loyal she-cat. She loved ShadowClan but she loved the RiverClan tom, too. Raggedstar made her choose between them and she chose the Clan.

Picking cats who hated her over true love. Cranepaw hadn't understood the first time she'd told him but he did now.

And he thought she'd chosen right.

_Besides, I wouldn't want to be raised a RiverClan cat, _he thought, shaking droplets off his paws. _I hate the damp._

ShadowClan scent became stronger and he realized they were almost back to camp. Blissful happiness flooded through him. Soon he'd be dry and warm and happy.

Then Nightpelt said, "Change out the elders' bedding before you do anything else, alright? Then you may eat and rest. Tonight we go out for stealth training."

Cranepaw and Racingpaw sighed together.

Crowtail said, "You must learn to hunt in the darkness. ShadowClan are cats of the night. We can take anyone by surprise at anytime. These are vital skills you _must _learn."

Nightpelt touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail. "Don't be too hard on them. They'll learn."

Crowtail eyed Racingpaw particularly sharply. "They better." She disappeared into the thorn tunnel, ducking her head so the brambles wouldn't claw at her ears.

Nightpelt watched her go. He said, "Don't worry about her," turning to look down at them with pride on his face. "You're doing very well."

Cranepaw said, "Thank you, Nightpelt."

Nightpelt dipped his head before following his Clanmate into the camp.

"'Thank you, Nightpelt,'" Racingpaw mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "'Do you want me to fetch you fresh bedding, too? Or maybe a nice plump squirrel, fresh from ThunderClan territory?'"

Cranepaw frowned as they trotted into camp. It smelled lovely, like home. All dark earth and fallen leaves. "I do not sound like that."

"You really do," Racingpaw said, laughing.

Cranepaw whapped a forepaw at him but his friend dodged agilely. Even in play, evasion transcended instinct.

As they settled into their usual routine—plucking out the damp moss and tossing it aside, weaving feathers into the bases of the nests—they fell into an easy silence. They never had to speak much. It just wasn't necessary.

The elders, however, couldn't stop chattering, it seemed.

Hollyflower said, "Did you hear? ThunderClan's deputy is sick. Yellowfang reported that Tawnyspots is looking very patchy."

Littlebird let out a rough purr. "Good," she said, her voice rusty. "We might can make a try for a slice of their territory. New-leaf is not treating us well."

Hollyflower sighed. "I'm sure things will pick up. You know how the rain chases everything away. There are plenty of toads around."

"You might like a toad but I do not." Littlebird curled her tongue in disgust. "Call me ThunderClan if you'd like, but I prefer something with warm blood. Those frogs are too slimy for my taste."

"You're so dainty," Hollyflower said. "If you tried a frog, you _might _like it."

Racingpaw rolled his eyes at Cranepaw, who stifled a laugh.

That caught both the old she-cats' attention.

"Something to say, little halfClan?" Littlebird demanded, her patchy fur up.

"Maybe he was just imagining the river," Hollyflower said, her eyes fixed on Cranepaw, her expression one of disgust. "The land of his ancestors."

Ears burning, Cranepaw studiously ignored them, working on a particularly hard bit of twig. It was stuck fast, right in the middle of Littlebird's nest. He tugged on it and the she-cat howled as if he'd struck her.

"Watch it!" she hissed, aiming a poor blow at his head; he ducked it easily. "Bumblepaws, all of them. The whole lot of RiverClan." The word curled poisonously on her tongue.

Racingpaw was watching Cranepaw, he could tell out of the corners of his eyes. But Cranepaw set to his work, finishing up with Littlebird's nest and walking to the moss pile.

Hollyflower said, "Look at him. He doesn't even _move _like us. Lumbering like a badger."

"Not that I'm agreeing," Racingpaw said, his voice very stiff. "But even if Cranepaw _did _move like a badger, it would be more than _you, _you sour old toad. I doubt you can even stand without your bones splintering from disuse." Twin yowls of derision raised up but Racingpaw had his eyes fixed on Cranepaw. "Come on. Clawpaw can take care of these two."

"I'll be bringing this up to Crowtail," Littlebird called after them.

Racingpaw, his entire face narrowed, just huffed. "Whatever," he muttered. Then he turned to Cranepaw. "Are you okay?"

Cranepaw hadn't noticed until that moment, but he was shaking with rage. "S-sorry."

"Not at all," Racingpaw said at once, looking surprised. "I won't let them talk to you like that. And so what if they talk to Crowtail? It's not like she can dislike me anymore than she already does."

"Yeah right," Cranepaw said, trying to cheer him up. He didn't like to see his friend so distraught, especially not after Racingpaw defended him for the umpteenth time. "You'll be Racingflight one day and then she'll have to shut up."

Racingpaw looked grateful. "Thanks. But it's Racing_heart. _Just for the record."

"Or Racing_snail_, judging by that last stealth training." Rosepaw came padding up, her light ginger fur falling elegantly around her, as usual. Cranepaw felt his heart kick up a wild rhythm as she turned her bright yellow eyes on him.

"Oh look," Racingpaw said snidely. "I was wondering when the bossypaws was going to show up."

Rosepaw didn't even look at him. "Hi, Cranepaw," she said in her bright voice. "How did the patrol go?"

"Tiring," Cranepaw answered, trying to keep his sentences small so he wouldn't get tongue-tied and sound like a moron.

Rosepaw's mouth quirked. "Don't worry," she said gently. "It gets easier."

"Says the cat who's been an apprentice for…what? _A single moon longer than us?_" Racingpaw smirked. "That sure makes you an expert."

"Racingpaw, keep your words to yourself. You lower the intelligence of everyone around you by speaking." Rosepaw turned her pink nose up at him. "Unless, of course, you want to say something intelligent. But I'll die of suffocation if I hold my breath for _that _moment."

Sufficiently outfoxed, Racingpaw muttered, "Stupid she-cat."

Sensing a triumph, Rosepaw turned back to Cranepaw. "Maybe I'll see you tonight at stealth training?"

"Yeah," Cranepaw breathed.

Rosepaw beamed at him and trotted away, her tail in the air, back to find her mentor.

"Yeah," he said again, dazed. "Anything you say."

"You know she's already gone, right?" Racingpaw was sulking, his eyes balefully watching Rosepaw speaking energetically with her mentor, Archeye. "Or do you want to continue talking to no one?"

Cranepaw shook his head quickly, trying to clear it.

As they walked to the fresh-kill pile, Racingpaw said, "Honestly, I don't know what you see in her. She's _insufferable."_

"She's nice," Cranepaw protested loyally. "And she's pretty. And she always comes to talk to me when no one else does."

All that was left was a bunch of shrunken toads. Cranepaw's stomach protested at the sight of them so he decided to wait.

Racingpaw, however, did not hold similar sentiment. He ripped into a frog, tearing off meager mouthfuls of stringy meat. Gulping it down, licking his lips, he added, "She's so bossy. And she's mean as a snake. You should hear her during my stalking practice when Crowtail's not listening. 'Oh, you call that a slide? I thought you were stretching your legs!'" He grumbled beneath his breath as he prodded at the rubbery bones left. "Mean. Very mean."

"You're not exactly nice to her, either, you know." Cranepaw watched Rosepaw turn and leave with a pang of disappointment in the pit of his stomach.

"She starts it," Racingpaw said immediately. "And whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Hers," Cranepaw said dreamily. Then when Racingpaw let out an outraged sound, he lied, "Just kidding, just kidding. Yours. Of course."

Appeased, Racingpaw turned back to his meal and Cranepaw let his mind drift.

Rosepaw probably didn't even know he had a crush on her. She probably had her eyes on one of the other, older apprentices. If not Clawpaw, who was strong and confident, then maybe Stumpypaw. Despite his stupid name, he was smart and he learned quickly. He was only a few moons older than Cranepaw but he was already learning ambushing.

Clawpaw was right across the way right now. Cranepaw watched him nudge Stumpypaw, who was his constant companion, then strut up to Rosepaw's side. He murmured something into her ear.

Cranepaw burned with jealousy.

"You're going to burn a hole in his head," Racingpaw said without looking up.

"I don't care," Cranepaw said.

"You'll care when he comes over here and hands you your disconnected tail." Racingpaw stood up, meal finished, with a look of dissatisfaction on his face.

"Yellowfang can reattach it."

Racingpaw laughed. "Good luck with _that._"

Cranepaw had to admit Racingpaw was right. Yellowfang had no patience for anyone but Raggedstar and her apprentice Runningpaw, Racingpaw's brother. Even the thought of asking her for something gave Cranepaw the shudders.

"Oh, hang on." Racingpaw's eyes were tracking something. Cranepaw wheeled around just in time to see the other dawn patrol stalk in.

In the lead was Brokentail, Raggedstar's only son. He was strong and broad-shouldered, his hard muscles working beneath his dark tabby pelt. Behind him was his constant companion Blackfoot, who was staring ahead with hard yellow eyes.

"Wow," Racingpaw breathed, as smitten with the idea of being a warrior as Cranepaw was with Rosepaw. "They are so cool."

Cranepaw didn't agree but he didn't say anything. Racingpaw was swept up in the awesomeness of it all, the hard flickering glances of the warrior pair. But Cranepaw didn't trust Brokentail. He'd done too many strange things to be trustable.

"We'll be like them someday." Racingpaw leaned against Cranepaw's shoulder, still watching Brokentail and Blackfoot. "Almost impossibly cool."

"Yeah," Cranepaw agreed, his eyes trained on the way Brokentail's eyes swept through the clearing, clearly looking for something.

Cranepaw knew what. And it sent a sick pang through his stomach.

The instant Brokentail's eyes gleamed, Cranepaw darted forward, leaving Racingpaw behind. He weaved through Cinderfur and Ashfur, who were chatting calmly, and ducked under Cloudpelt's long tail until he reached the warriors' den. "Silversong!" he greeted.

His mother had just emerged. "Good morning, little one," she said warmly, brushing her pale muzzle down against his.

Cranepaw looked over his shoulder to see Brokentail's frustrated stare locked on him. Lifting his chin a bit more, Cranepaw turned back to his mother.

"Did you do well this morning?" she asked, her eyes dancing. She had blue eyes but always said Cranepaw's were prettier, a pale green. He knew she liked them so much because they were the exact same shade as his father's.

"Yes," he said, and then launched into a full report of the patrol. Silversong listened patiently, her head tipped delicately to the side, until he had finished.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, touching her nose gently to his. "You're such a good little warrior."

He raised his tail happily at her praise.

Nightpelt's voice came from behind him. "Cranepaw, come here."

Cranepaw hesitated.

Silversong purred. "Go ahead. I'll be here when you return."

Cranepaw said, "Okay. I have something else to tell you then!"

Something passed across Silversong's blue eyes. "Me too," she said, surprising him. "It can wait. Go on now."

Confused, Cranepaw obeyed. _What could she mean? _It fell to the back of his mind as he saw the expression on his mentor's face.

Nightpelt looked grim. "Raggedstar has requested you and Racingpaw specifically for this," he said.

"For what?" Cranepaw didn't like the edge in his mentor's usually calm tone. Something was wrong.

Nightpelt hesitated and in that moment, Cranepaw knew something was off.

"He wants you and Racingpaw to survey WindClan. You mustn't get caught."

* * *

**Alrighty! That's better!**

**Now, as I said in the last chapter, this story will update every Sunday. And the chapters will be longer, as I had to break this one up for consistency's sake. XD**

**Mkay, I'm off to do homework now that this is done. Twelve pages on Shakespeare's _Richard II_ and_ Richard III__!_ Woohoo!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	3. Chapter 2

**Heeey! So it's Sunday and here's my update! Pretty consistent, right? Right. X3**

**Okay. Onto the story~**

* * *

WindClan territory just before dawn was ominous. Mist hung low over the tangle of gorse and vines, soaking into Cranepaw's fur. It was so different from ShadowClan. Where the dark pines and marsh cloaked them at home, WindClan bared them to the sky. The moor was completely open. There was nowhere to hide.

Racingpaw shivered at his side. His brown pelt was dark with beads of dew, making his back fur look almost the same darker shade of his legs. "This is crazy!" he whispered, his breath clouding in the air in front of him. He didn't sound like he totally objected to it, though, Cranepaw thought. In fact, he looked like he was quite enjoying himself, his haunches shifting back and forth as if he was about to launch forward.

Which was the opposite of what Cranepaw was feeling. His belly was in tight knots, his breath quick, his heart beating hard against the insides of his ribs as if it was trying to force its way out of his chest. It was wrong, so wrong, to be this close to the enemy border. Especially with what the next step of the plan was.

Raggedstar had met with them earlier that day in his den to give them their orders.

_ Cranepaw was afraid of Raggedstar, he always had been. There was something so austere about his expression, like he never had any fun. Being the leader of ShadowClan had to be difficult—the burden to keep them a step above the other Clans must be hard on him—but he didn't have to look so scary all the time._

_ Raggedstar said, "Cranepaw, Racingpaw, it's getting close to your warrior ceremony, isn't it?"_

_ "A few more moons yet," Nightpelt said patiently, pride in his voice. He flicked his black tail over Cranepaw's shoulders in a rare show of affection. "A bit more training to go, but they're improving marvelously." _

_Cranepaw lifted his chin a bit at his mentor's brief praise. It was uncommon to hear so much from the dark warrior._

_Racingpaw's mentor didn't seem as convinced. Her mouth was a flat line of worry. Crowtail said, "If you're looking to send them, Raggedstar, now would be the best time. It's just dusk now. They can get there in enough time to rest before moving on."_

_"Where are we going?" Racingpaw asked, sounding excited. His fur was fluffed up around his shoulders, spiking with anticipation. Bouncing in place, he looked from Crowtail to Raggedstar, leaning forward in expectation._

_Raggedstar had a weighted pause, as if he was about to reconsider. In the half-light of the den—combined with the waning sun—he looked almost entirely black, his dark tabby stripes lost in his shadowy pelt. "WindClan," he said finally. _

_Racingpaw looked as confused as Cranepaw felt. "To the border?"_

_"To the territory."_

_Cranepaw felt a squirm of unease. Crossing into another Clan's territory? "Isn't…isn't that against the warrior code?"_

_Raggedstar turned his bright yellow eyes on him and Cranepaw felt himself shrink back smaller. "The leader's word is law," he said, his voice deeper than usual in his offense. "You wish to go against me? As your mother did?"_

_The air went out of Cranepaw's lungs at that. His pelt burned with shame._

_"Raggedstar," Nightpelt said, almost sharply. His eyes were narrowed but he didn't look down at his apprentice, who was fuming with rage. "Please."_

_The leader sighed tightly, turning his head to the side. "I apologize," he said slowly. "I'm…speaking too much. Please forgive me, Cranepaw." Without waiting for a word from Cranepaw, who was shaking with anger and humiliation, he said, "Leave now. You'll make it to the border halfway through the night. When dawn begins to break, head into the territory. Don't go further than the stream. If they catch you… Well, let's just not let that happen, shall we?" _

_Racingpaw said matter-of-factly, no doubt quoting Crowtail from his lessons, "If they catch us, they'll kill us."_

_"They won't," Crowtail said sharply, nudging his shoulder a bit too hard; it set Racingpaw stumbling. "Now be quiet and obey your leader, Racingpaw."_

_Racingpaw dipped his head but Cranepaw could see that the remark stung him. His tail lashed a few times in irritation._

_As they left the den, Nightpelt said, "I'll escort you there."_

_"No," Raggedstar said. "If they catch wind of warriors, we'll have a full-scale war on our paws. Let them go by themselves. It'll test them."_

_"Test them? They're breaking—"_

_"You've heard my orders, Nightpelt. Will you go against them?"_

_Nightpelt was furiously silent._

_Raggedstar let out a sound of acceptance, his yellow eyes half-lidded with smugness. "I didn't think so. I know what I'm doing. Trust me."_

That "_Trust me" _was still ringing in Cranepaw's ears, even here at WindClan's border. Why did Raggedstar want them to go to WindClan? Why send _them_ of all cats? Why not send a pair of warriors? Was he trying to get them both killed?

"Dawn," Racingpaw said, breaking his concentration. Cranepaw looked up to see the lines of orange bleeding through the stringy tendrils of gorse, turning them gold. "We should go."

Cranepaw hesitated. If he went, he'd be obeying his leader. That was what being a warrior was all about, right?

Racingpaw stepped over the border casually, even though he must have smelled the scent-markers; Cranepaw could smell them from back here in the shade of the bracken they had been hiding in. "Come on, Cranepaw," he called softly, twitching his tail for his friend to follow.

And Cranepaw, after a long moment, obeyed.

WindClan ground was springy and dry beneath his paws, as if the gorse had added a new layer of softness. _WindClan's pads must be as soft as this, _he thought as they walked gingerly down one of the gorse tunnels. He had to duck his head to avoiding catching his ears on the thorns.

By the smell of it, this was an old hunting trail. Cranepaw knew that WindClan mostly hunted rabbits out in the open, catching their prey by speed, not stealth. The very idea of chasing something down like that was foreign to him. If he tried that on any of the rats or voles in ShadowClan territory, he'd have nothing to show for it but empty paws and an even emptier belly.

They were silent, as they'd been told. The air was gusty, whistling through their ears, so talking was out of the question anyway.

A rabbit darted by.

Without hesitation, Racingpaw turned, his claws splayed, and slashed at it.

He hit the mark, slicing a neat set of lines down the rabbit's flank. Enough to slow it down, to wound it, but not kill it.

It limped off into the gorse, leaving a bloody trail.

Despite the fact that the mere scent of blood set Cranepaw's nose twitching—they hadn't eaten since the day before, too busy trying to get to the right starting position for this mission to even think about breaking the rules and hunting for themselves—he grabbed Racingpaw by the scruff to keep him from chasing it.

"Are you insane?" he hissed into his friend's ear. "That's WindClan prey."

Racingpaw flailed his paws. "I thought we could bring it back to ShadowClan," he protested. "For Whitewind."

Racingpaw's mother had just had her next litter of kits. With prey down so low from the long leaf-bare, her kits had the chance of going hungry before they'd even opened their eyes.

Cranepaw felt for Racingpaw but he still thought he'd been foolish. His heart was in the right place; this just wasn't the right place. "We could've tried to catch some closer to home. We're halfway into WindClan and now they're going to know—"

The gorse rattled on the path ahead of them.

As one, Racingpaw and Cranepaw leapt into the gorse, weaving their way expertly into the denser part of the thicket with such dexterity that Cranepaw didn't even lose any fur.

This deep in, Cranepaw's world was all green and thorny. A bit of gorse pierced the soft of his nose as he turned around, making his eyes water, but he didn't move. He crushed down, keeping his chin on the ground, and held perfectly still.

He couldn't see Racingpaw and he could barely smell him; they'd rolled in peat moss earlier to throw off their scent. Hopefully it was enough to keep them hidden by WindClan, who he knew were hunters by sight, not scent.

A set of pale gold legs walked by, followed by a cat with a long black-and-white tail. The sound of scampering came next as a younger cat—clearly an apprentice—hurried to catch up with the adults.

"Hold on, Dawnstripe," the older tom said, his voice low and powerful. "I smell something."

"Me too," she said. "Tornpaw, what scent is that?"

"Blood," the apprentice said promptly. "But why would it be out here? Oh! Oh, Dawnstripe, come look! Tallstar, look what I found!"

_Tallstar! _The WindClan leader? Horror surged like an icy wave in Cranepaw's chest. If they got caught now, they were going to be in terrible, terrible danger.

Through the gaps in the gorse, Cranepaw could see Tornpaw. He was a small gray tabby tom, his ears torn to ribbons. _So young to have those wounds, _Cranepaw thought as Tornpaw sniffed the gorse.

He looked up and Cranepaw froze, certain that he'd been spotted.

Tornpaw said, "It smells like rabbit. It must be hurt."

Tallstar sighed. "If only we'd gotten here sooner. Whiteberry can't go on much longer with no prey. We have to find something. Go look further down and see if you can track it, Tornpaw."

Dawnstripe waited until her apprentice was away before saying gently, "Tallstar. You're doing all you can. The Clan doesn't blame you for this. You don't control the weather."

"Yes, but I don't control the sun or the moon or StarClan's patterns but the Clan seems to think I do," he said, his voice tight. He lashed his tail in frustration.

"They'll learn to let you lead. Heatherstar was with us for so long, a lot of them haven't had another leader. You'll do marvelously." Her voice went lighter as she added, "Besides, what's the worst that could happen? ShadowClan could come after us?"

Tallstar snorted. "I'd like to see them try. Raggedstar can't seem to keep control of his own warriors. Did you see Brokentail at the last Gathering? Shameful."

Dawnstripe said something else but they were already moving away, crying out with happiness when Tornpaw reported he'd caught the wounded rabbit. They didn't even seem to notice the clawmarks on it.

Once their voices had faded off into the wind-tossed moor, Cranepaw turned to Racingpaw.

Racingpaw's eyes were burning. "Did you hear what he said about Raggedstar? And Brokentail?" He winced as he tugged himself free of the gorse and then they were running back towards ShadowClan territory, the exhilaration of nearly getting caught fueling their paws. "How dare he!"

"I can't believe that was Tallstar," Cranepaw said, not particularly concerned about Brokentail—though he was rankled about the insult to Raggedstar. "He looked so small."

"Didn't you hear them? They're starving! Their elders are dying because there's not enough prey." Racingpaw's eyes gleamed. "This sounds like a chance for us to move in."

"We could steal a slice of the moor," Cranepaw suggested. "I could learn how to catch rabbits."

"I already did!" Racingpaw boasted. "Imagine it, Cranepaw. We're bringing this news to Raggedstar. He's going to love us!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"What?" Racingpaw's mouth was hanging open. "You're not going to attack?"

"Racingpaw," Cranepaw muttered, glancing nervously up at Raggedstar. They were back in his den, beneath the tangled, gnarled roots of an oak tree. It hadn't taken very long to get back but the entire Clan was up and awake now, waiting for the verdict of what they would do next.

Racingpaw ignored him. "But they're weak! We can take them! There's plenty of prey if you know where to look and—"

"First," Raggedstar said, and whatever Racingpaw was going to say next died in his throat. "You were foolish to hunt on their lands. What were you thinking?"

Petulantly, Racingpaw lashing his tail behind him, his head lowered. "I wanted to bring some prey to Whitewind. She—"

"Is doing fine without your help," Raggedstar finished for him, making Racingpaw sink into sulky silence. "Yellowfang is taking very good care of her, I assure you."

_Yeah, despite herself, _Cranepaw thought mutinously, automatically siding with Racingpaw, even though he'd thought he was half-mad earlier. No one, not even Raggedstar, could talk badly to his best friend.

"That aside," Raggedstar continued, curling his thick dark tail behind him as he paced in a circle. "I am proud of you. You both did excellently. The news of WindClan weakening wasn't exactly new but I'm surprised to see how far it's progressed."

His deputy, a ginger she-cat named Foxheart, said, "Racingpaw could be right, Raggedstar. This would be a great way to show WindClan that ShadowClan deserves the fear we've gained." She lifted her head, her green eyes glittering. "I don't like hearing WindClan talk about our weakness behind our backs. Especially yours." There was softness in her voice, enough to make Cranepaw uncomfortable.

The pervading rumor was that Foxheart was Brokentail's mother. He'd been raised by a cranky old she-cat named Lizardstripe, who had gone to join StarClan a few moons earlier—not that Cranepaw minded. She'd always snapped and bit at him, cursing him for being halfClan.

Cranepaw totally believed that Foxheart was Brokentail's mother: they both had the conniving, cunningness about them that was always unnerving. Raggedstar just gave him the thirst for power and his shadowy pelt.

Raggedstar seemed to humor her, drawing the tip of his tail down her side. "Yes… I shall think about it. For now, you two are excused. Go and get something special from the fresh-kill pile and enjoy. You've deserved it."

Cranepaw bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, Raggedstar."

Racingpaw mimicked him but said nothing, still seeming annoyed.

The fresh-killed pile was newly stocked. Someone had managed to catch a squirrel, which was highly uncommon. _It must have crossed over the Thunderpath from ThunderClan territory, _Cranepaw thought.

"Want to split that?" he asked, turning to Racingpaw.

He nodded. "Sure! But let's go give some to Whitewind, okay?" He was fretting, his eyes full of anxiety.

Cranepaw rolled his eyes. Racingpaw always acted like his mother was in such a fragile condition that she could barely walk around by herself. "She's just had kits, not lost limbs. She can come and get her own food, you know? And Yarrowstripe can help her.

Yarrowstripe was the kits' father, but not Racingpaw's. Whitewind was small and weak for her age, so she'd deigned herself a professional queen. Racingpaw didn't know which tom was his father, which of course left him imagining wildly who it was. In his best dreams, it was Brokentail.

But Cranepaw knew Brokentail only had eyes for his mother Silversong, which was disgusting and disturbing beyond belief. As if Silversong would betray her RiverClan mate, whoever that was. He hoped she would tell him one day.

Then it hit him: she had told him before he left for WindClan that she wanted to tell him something.

_ Maybe that's what she meant, _Cranepaw thought. _Maybe she'll tell me who my father is!_

"Here." Cranepaw ducked his head and took a few quick bites of the squirrel, then added with his mouth full, "I forgot that Silversong wanted to talk to me."

A bit of meat flew from his mouth and landed on Racingpaw's muzzle. Flicking it away with his tail-tip, an annoyed expression on his face, Racingpaw said, "Fine! More for me, then!" He plucked up the squirrel. "Hurry back. I want you to tell Whitewind about the mission!"

Cranepaw trotted over to where the warriors' den was, situated under a large bramble bush. He poked his nose in and smelled for Silversong but he couldn't detect her scent. Through the darkness, a few pairs of eyes gleamed at him curiously, but he pulled his head out before anyone could ask him about the mission.

Looking around the camp, he spotted her, trotting out of the camp's thorn entrance, just the tip of her tail showing before it whipped out of sight.

Her name died in Cranepaw's throat as he saw Brokentail watching. Without a word, the dark tom got up from his place where he'd been sharing tongues with Blackfoot. He disappeared out the thorn tunnel after her.

Dread clutched at Cranepaw's chest. Brokentail had been relentless in his pursuit of Silversong. Cranepaw, as revolted by the concept as he was confident his mother wouldn't even entertain the idea, couldn't help but burn with curiosity of what he was doing.

He ran across the clearing, ignoring the surprised call from Rosepaw, who was trotting alongside Archeye, and barreled out the thorn tunnel.

He knew apprentices weren't allowed out without supervision so he stuck to the shadows, his smoke-dark pelt blending in perfectly with the undulating shade of the thorn trees.

His mother's scent was laid clear across the marsh as he stalked forward unblinkingly, keeping his body low and his tail flat. He'd had enough stealth training to know how to keep his paws silent, his breath tight in his throat, breathing in through his mouth and not his nose because it could whistle.

There was a thorn bush up ahead and Cranepaw wove into it, pressing his side against the pine it grew next to, staring ahead at where Silversong was tracking something.

She laid low on the ground, unmoving, letting the sun's light gleam over her pelt, confusing the sparrow in front of her into thinking she was a part of the dancing sunlight. Then without warning, she struck, her paw lashing out, claws flashing. The sparrow was dead at her paws a heartbeat later.

"Very good," a curled, suave voice came, and Brokentail made his appearance. He strutted forward, his orange eyes gleaming. "You're such a fine huntress, Silversong."

Silversong dropped the sparrow and turned around, the fur along her shoulders rising. "What gives me the honor of _your_ presence, Brokentail?" she asked, only barely keeping the iciness out of her voice. "I don't usually see you without your lackey. Where is Blackfoot, anyway?"

"I left him behind." Brokentail stalked closer, his eyes not moving from her. They roved over her. "I wanted to talk to you alone."

"Is that so?" Silversong's eyes wandered over his face. From Cranepaw's position, he could see her claws flexing in and out. "Why would that be?"

"I was wondering if you'd thought more about my…proposition," he said smoothly, charmingly. He was circling her, his tail tip twitching from side to side in time with his step.

"Oh right," Silversong said, dawning realization in her voice. "Your proposition."

Realizing she was mocking him, Brokentail dropped his amiable act with a frown, his eyes flashing. "This isn't a game. I've offered you a chance to rise in the ranks of ShadowClan, something you desperately need after your blunder—"

"Blunder?" Silversong's eyes flashed. "How _dare_ you! That's my son you're talking about!"

"Actually," Brokentail said smoothly, "I was referring to your previous mate."

"There's nothing _previous_ about it," Silversong said coldly.

Brokentail let out a startled, choked noise. "So you're still seeing him!" he said, his voice peculiar: half-triumphant, half-astonished.

Silversong didn't turn her head away. "Not like it's any of your business, but no, I am not still seeing him. I haven't been allowed to go to a Gathering since Cranepaw was born. Your father—"

"My father wisely decided that you might betray us, again." There was the merest emphasis on the final word, enough to make Silversong recoil as if he'd slashed at her. "I want what's best for you, Silversong."

"You want what's best for yourself," she spat, her lip curling.

Brokentail looked at her slyly. "You think I don't have any power? You're wrong. You just wait until I'm leader—"

"I may as well wait for mice to sprout wings," she said snidely, lashing her tail once. Cranepaw had rarely seen her so angry. "It's far more likely."

"—and then you'll see what kind of power I have," Brokentail finished, as if she'd never even spoken. "And you'll be there right beside me. The leader's mate."

Cranepaw felt like bursting out of the thorn that very instant and slashing Brokentail across the mouth for talking to Silversong that way. It was difficult to remain still when he knew Brokentail had his eyes all over his mother.

Silversong snorted, tossing her head. "You're living in a dream world if you think I'd ever betray my mate for you. I wouldn't dare lower my standards that far for fear that I'd sink right through the ground to where your kind live, you pathetic worm."

Brokentail looked like he was having a hard time holding his temper. "Why don't you just wait and see, Silversong. You'll be mine eventually. You'll be mine or no one will have you."

Silversong's eyes widened. "Is that a threat?"

Brokentail's eyes traveled across her face, her neck, her smooth gray tabby pelt. "I don't make threats, Silversong," he said sleekly. "You can either take my deal or leave it. But I'll warn you: there might be consequences."

She bared her teeth at him, getting right up in his face. Brokentail, to his credit, didn't back away, even as she hissed in his face.

Her voice low, she whispered, "If you touch a single hair on my son's pelt, I'll rip out whatever shriveled black husk is in the place of your heart, you pathetic insect. I'll make you regret being born. So don't you _dare _threaten me, because I am not afraid of you." Then she turned and stalked away, all the fur along her spine up.

When she was finally swallowed up in the shadows, Brokentail said, almost too low for Cranepaw to hear, "You should be."

Cranepaw breathed in sharply.

Suddenly his eyes flashed in Cranepaw's direction, the orange so bright Cranepaw was half-afraid the thorn would burst into flames at the touch of that gaze. He didn't even dare to breathe.

But then Brokentail turned and walked in the opposite direction, leaving Cranepaw still hidden, his heart beating very fast.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The next morning, Cranepaw awoke with a terrible sense of knowing.

He'd had nightmares all night long, making him toss and turn in his sleep, showing him horrible images of Brokentail's orange eyes and dark fur stalking along the corners of his vision, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Cranepaw sat up abruptly, sending feathers spinning off his ears. He listened hard but he couldn't hear anything. The camp was silent as deep winter.

He prodded Racingpaw. "Something's wrong," he said, his throat dry as WindClan's moors had been.

Without waiting for Racingpaw to get up, he dove out of the apprentice den on numbed paws.

The clearing was full of cats, all huddled together around something. They looked up as he walked out, his breathing choked and gasping.

_No. _The one word was the only thing Cranepaw could think, could feel, as he raced across the camp to where the bodies were pressed most closely.

At once, they turned to him, trying to push him back, their soft words making no sense in his head. Their faces, the faces he'd known since the instant he opened his eyes for the first time, didn't connect in his hazed brain. They were just a smattering of color and glints of eyes. They were nothing but nothing.

Then Whitewind was there and she pressed him back and she was saying softly, "Please, Cranepaw, wait—wait for Raggedstar. Raggedstar is coming now," but he couldn't wait, he couldn't. He pushed past her soft eyes and her gentle entreaties and into the blank circle of space at the center of camp.

And there, lying still as ice on the ground, was Silversong, blood splashed about her throat and chest, her blue eyes staring blankly ahead of her.

She was dead.

* * *

**And the plot THICKENS! **

**Did you know, that today, a hundred years ago, the Titanic sank? The cause of all my obsesssion...a hundred years ago today!**

**Needless to say, I'll be watching documentaries on it all day long. When I'm not doing my research paper. Guh.**

**Anyway. **

**You know what to do!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	4. Chapter 3

**So this chapter is shorter than the rest 'cause I've got exams slash a hundred-page-long script to write, currently standing at fifty pages. So I had to write this one quickly. XD**

**Okay. So.**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

Cranepaw fell to the ground at his mother's paws. He couldn't look away from her staring eyes, the eyes that had been so full of patient affection when she was talking to him, glittering with amusement when he told stories of his and Racingpaw's adventures.

Now they were sightlessly staring upwards into the dawning morning.

"Oh, _StarClan," _he moaned, his breath agonizingly tight in his chest. It felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air. He was gasping in quick, shallow breaths but it wasn't enough. His head swam.

Whitewind pressed her muzzle against the side of his neck, her breath soft on his cheek. "Come away, Cranepaw. Come away now, darling. Come on…"

But he wouldn't move. "Mother," he rasped.

In the background, he could hear murmuring, like wind rippling through long grass. Whitewind was pressing them back, telling someone to fetch Raggedstar. Foxheart's voice came first, loudest, her tone shrill with shock. Cranepaw couldn't make out her words.

"StarClan!" someone exclaimed and Cranepaw barely registered his leader approaching. Raggedstar bent and rapidly sniffed along Silversong's neck, where the blood was the strongest. "Yellowfang!"

The medicine cat hurried up, Runningpaw at her side. Racingpaw's brother was smaller and sicklier than he was, so he'd been a perfect fit for Yellowfang's apprentice. Today he was snuffling thickly as he mimicked his mentor's motions, dipping around Silversong's body, poking and prodding.

He lifted Silversong's foreleg too quickly as he checked her chest. It slid off his shoulders and hit the ground with a thump.

Cranepaw immediately reacted. Covering Silversong's body with his own, he slammed his forepaws down near Runningpaw enough to make the smaller apprentice jump. "Don't touch her!" he snarled, baring his teeth.

Runningpaw immediately recoiled but Yellowfang did not.

With narrowed eyes, she said, "Do you want to know how your mother died or not?"

The words hit him like thorn-sharp claws. He winced away from them. "Don't—don't say that…"

Yellowfang said matter-of-factly, "She's dead, Cranepaw. She's gone. If you want me to find out _how _she died, so you can feel a bit of comfort from that, you need to step back and let us do our work. We know what we're doing."

Despite her harsh tone, Cranepaw knew she was doing him a kindness. But his aching heart wouldn't allow him to speak to it. Nodding once sharply, he stepped back and into the comforting shelter of Whitewind's body. She curved her silky tail around him and rested her chin atop his head as Yellowfang moved forward, though not without a soft reprimand to Runningpaw for his clumsiness.

Racingpaw was by Whitewind. He pressed his nose against Cranepaw's pelt, trying to comfort his friend with touch alone. Cranepaw accepted it with dull thanks, bumping his forehead against his friend's.

Raggedstar sat at the edge of the circle that had grown around Silversong's body. His eyes locked with Yellowfang's and he nodded, something passing between them that Cranepaw couldn't understand. Then he said, "Results?"

Yellowfang sat down hard with a great release of breath. Hanging her head below her shoulders, she said, "Killed by a warrior."

A hiss of horror ran around the circle.

Ashfur, a thin gray tom, spoke up first, his voice trembling. "Who?"

Yellowfang shook her head. "Her scent is lost because of the damp from last night. I can't detect a thing."

Raggedstar, without hesitation, said, "Cloudpelt."

The white warrior peeled away from the group, padding up on light paws, his eyes determined. Cloudpelt was by far the best tracker in the Clan. If he couldn't find out what scent was on Silversong, no one could.

But when Cloudpelt pulled away, distress on his face, Cranepaw felt his heart throb painfully. He shook his head. "I can't smell…anything. Just the peat."

Raggedstar nodded to himself, dipping his dark head against his chin, as if that had answered something. "Who was with her? Who found her?"

Before Cranepaw could answer, Blackfoot spoke up. "I did, Raggedstar."

"Where was she?"

Blackfoot jerked his head over his shoulder. "I found her at the border to Fourtrees when I was on dawn patrol. She was facing…" He trailed off hesitantly, looking over at Brokentail.

Cranepaw fixed on his hated face, watching with dull disbelief as he nodded his friend on encouragingly.

"Yes?" Raggedstar sounded testy. Behind him, the Clan had their eyes fixed on Blackfoot, waiting impatiently.

Blackfoot jerked his eyes from Brokentail. "RiverClan," he said at last, sounding apologetic, as if he hadn't wanted to admit it. "She was facing RiverClan."

Littlebird, who had pulled her old bones out of the elders' den, whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Going back to her mate, I suppose. Serves her right, then. A traitor till the end."

Cranepaw wheeled on her, finally feeling something—hot, poisonous rage, venomous as an adder bite—but to his surprise, Brokentail snapped first.

"Silversong was a loyal ShadowClan warrior," he said, narrowing his orange eyes at Littlebird. "She served her Clan well, and until the end. If she was killed by RiverClan warriors, then she didn't plan on it. She was fighting. Look at her fur and then tell me she deserved to die, Littlebird."

Sufficiently mollified by an outburst from silent, sullen Brokentail of all cats, Littlebird didn't say anything else.

Raggedstar sighed heavily, turning sad yellow eyes on Silversong. "She was young," he said. "She didn't deserve this." Without warning, he turned and raced up to the top branch of his den, where the oak tree forked. Facing the Clan, he said, "We will not allow this to pass! Silversong _will _be avenged! Tonight we will honor Silversong's death with a feast and tomorrow, we go to RiverClan. We will demand to know what happened to our own. ShadowClan do not forgive those who go against us. We will not forgive this tragedy!"

Yowls of agreement rang out across the clearing but Cranepaw didn't join in. He was watching Brokentail, who was standing silently again, his eyes on his father, and wondered just how much the dark warrior had really felt for his mother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few days later, Silversong's grave had already been smoothed over by moss. Cranepaw stood in front of it, a scrawny mouse in his jaws. He dropped it on the ground where his mother lay beneath and said, "I brought you this. It's your favorite."

The mouse looked absolutely tiny. In the little oak hollow where ShadowClan buried their dead, it was silent. Even the cold north wind, the one they said hardened ShadowClan hearts, was still.

Cranepaw thought about that wind, how it struck fear into other Clans and strength into ShadowClan. He closed his eyes and let the smell of earth and blood fill his nose, hoping it would strengthen him, too.

RiverClan had no answers for them. When Raggedstar had led the patrol—Cranepaw was not allowed to go but Stumpypaw did, and he told him everything—RiverClan had acted confused. Raggedstar had even met with the deputy Timberfur but he claimed he didn't know anything. When Raggedstar threatened to out them all at the next Gathering, Timberfur hadn't been a mousetail bit of afraid.

_I guess that means they're liars, _he thought, anger pulsing through him in dull throbs, beating in time with his heavy heart. He would beg to go to the next Gathering. He would do anything to get a chance to try and find the cat who killed his mother.

Something shuffled behind him. "I'm fine, Racingpaw" he said, without being prompted.

It wasn't Racingpaw. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Rosepaw dropped into a sitting position beside him. Her soft yellow eyes were on him, he could feel it. "Cranepaw, you've hardly talked to anyone for days."

He kept his eyes determinedly on the ground in front of him. "I have nothing to say."

"That's not true." Her voice was gentle but it also sounded tense, like a strung vine. "Cranepaw, we're all worried for you. We want to help you."

"Don't. I don't need help." He stood abruptly, wanting to be anywhere but here having this discussion with Rosepaw. She'd been nothing but nice to him his whole life but right now, he didn't want nice. He wanted to scream.

Rosepaw just looked up at him. "_I_ want to help you," she said, her eyes bright. "Not just anyone or everyone. Me. I don't like seeing you so unhappy."

Cranepaw laughed harshly. "I'm sorry if my mother's murder puts me in a bad mood. I'll work on that."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." A bit of hardness came into her voice. "Nightpelt tells me you haven't been going to lessons. You go out by yourself."

Cranepaw didn't answer. The other Clans might have to have apprentices supervised but ShadowClan encouraged their young cats to go out alone. It trained them for stealth. It helped to keep them directed, to worry for themselves. It was helpful.

Alone was what was protecting him from their terrible, smothering sympathy.

Rosepaw tried for a different angle. "Silversong wouldn't want you to—"

"Oh no," he said sharply, his back fur rising. He could feel it like sharp jabs of rain along his spine. "Don't you _dare _bring Silversong into this!"

"If you'll recall," she said softly, "I loved her, too. You didn't just lose someone, Cranepaw. We all did."

"No," he said. "No, that's not true. Didn't you hear Littlebird? What she said about my mother?" He burned with rage at the thought of it, at the horrible look of smugness on the old cat's face when she said Silversong had deserved death.

"Yes," Rosepaw said evenly, her eyes level. "You didn't hear the part where Raggedstar ordered her to do a moon's worth of dawn _and _moonhigh patrols. When she refused, he suggested she go find herself a nice Twoleg home to live in, since ShadowClan warriors obviously weren't doing the trick."

That got him. He laughed a bit, under his breath. _Serves her right, sour old she-cat. I hope her paws ache._

Rosepaw looked pleased, as if taking in a bit of his reflected amusement. "You missed something else, too. Stumpypaw became a warrior tonight."

"What's his name?"

"Stumpytail." She laughed once, the sound melodic like falling water. "They're about to give out apprentices so I came to fetch you."

"Apprentices? To who?"

Rosepaw tilted her head to the side, her eyes slanted coyly. "Why don't you come back with me and find out?"

He didn't want to. He wanted to stay here with his mother but it was impossible. She wasn't here. Yellowfang was right. And the sooner he accepted that, the happier he would be.

Until he met with RiverClan. Then he would have something else to burn for.

They got back into the clearing just in time to watch Brightflower's kits step forward, their fur smoothed until it shone. Volepaw, who had just received his new name, bounded forward and touched noses with his new mentor, Blackfoot.

"Blackfoot, in return for your loyalty to your Clan and your Clanmates, and for returning Silversong to us, you receive this apprentice. Teach Volepaw everything you know."

Blackfoot, whose eyes were gleaming, knelt down to the apprentice's level and returned the touch, whispering into his apprentice's ear.

Raggedstar turned to Mosskit. "Likewise, for your outspokenness in protection of a Clanmate, you will be Mosspaw's mentor, Brokentail."

_Brokentail! _Cranepaw's fur riled up along his back at the very sound of his name. Despite Brokentail's speaking up for his mother, Cranepaw did not trust him. He seemed so shifty, so silent, that he couldn't be trusted.

Brokentail, who had groomed his dark fur until it was glossy like a moonless night, strode forward smoothly and touched Mosspaw's nose. The little kit drew back a little, looking afraid, before stretching out and pressing his nose quickly to his new mentor's.

"Mosspaw! Volepaw! Mosspaw! Volepaw!" The Clan cheered for their new apprentices, each sounding fox-lengths happier than they had a few days ago. And in a way, Cranepaw was happy that someone was happy. It felt like he could breathe easier now that there were new cats helping to carry along the hard name of ShadowClan.

Rosepaw said, "Shall we go set them up with some nests?" As the second-oldest apprentice, now that Stumpytail would be in the warriors' den, she probably felt some sort of duty towards the newest members, even though that task should have gone to Clawpaw.

Clawpaw himself was prancing around Brokentail and Blackfoot, chattering quickly. He was standing heavier than he usually did, his shoulders squared, like he was trying to make himself look bigger.

Rosepaw, who had noticed Cranepaw's distraction, followed his gaze, her fur bristling. "Clawpaw's going to get himself into trouble that way," she said softly. "He should know his place."

"And where is his place?" Cranepaw asked, his voice sounding hard, even to him.

He felt her eyes move to his face. "If he's smart, not with them."

Shock flooded through him. He wheeled to her. "You don't trust them?"

Rosepaw looked hesitant now, as if she hadn't meant to say that. She scuffed her darker paws in the dirt, her tail sweeping slowly from side to side. It made her look young, which was not how Cranepaw usually thought her. He always imagined her as nearly a warrior, if only because of her solemn yellow eyes and soft-spoken nature.

Then she looked up at him through her eyelashes and he felt a dull flush spread in his belly. "No," she whispered. "I don't know why. My instincts are telling me that—that something is wrong with Brokentail. There's something missing in his eyes when he speaks to others. I don't know what it is. I've always been…afraid of him." She looked miserable. "Please don't tell him."

The thought almost made him laugh but he knew better. Rosepaw would be hurt. "I hate him," he said honestly, somehow keeping the ice out of his voice. "He…he threatened my mother."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Cranepaw was reluctant to tell her. What if she went to Raggedstar and he lost his only chance for revenge? If he didn't get to go to the Gathering this next moon, he would miss the chance to confront RiverClan. Rosepaw was enough of a stickler for the warrior code to report anything suspicious to the leader—even if it meant she was reporting a friend.

So Cranepaw decided to lie. "I thought I heard him say something to her."

"Like what?" She leaned closer, looking appalled. "You don't think…that he—"

"No," he said quickly, pretending he was affronted. "StarClan, no. I'm just saying…he had a thing for my mother. It must be hard on him."

But Rosepaw wasn't stupid and she wasn't buying his lies. "Cranepaw, if you know something, you should—"

"It's nothing," he insisted. Sidestepping her when she tried to protest, he said, "Come on. Volepaw and Mosspaw are waiting for us, right?" He looked over his shoulder expectantly, hoping he had kept his expression clear of emotion.

Rosepaw watched him for a long moment, lasting several heartbeats, and for each one of them, dread pumped icily into Cranepaw's chest.

Then she seemed to relax. "Alright," she said evenly, stepping to his side. "You know, Cranepaw… You can trust me. I'm your friend."

Cranepaw purred once, the sound rusty from disuse. He couldn't remember the last time he purred. "Of course, Rosepaw. I trust you."

The lie tasted foul.

* * *

**Woooo!**

**Hey hey hey, on Tuesday, I get to see if I progressed in ABNA! And I get to find out if I got into a summer program! And...something else that was also exciting! Eep!**

**But first, I have to do two portfolios, my script, and an exam. D:**

**But it shall be worth it. IT SHALL.**

**So...that's good. XD  
**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	5. Chapter 4

**Woo, new update~ I forgot to put up ANs earlier so...here they are. XD**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

The moon was bright and full as a silver eye as Cranepaw ran alongside Racingpaw. The shadows weren't as deep here as in ShadowClan territory, where the dark pines kept out most of the light. Here Silverpelt shone down fully, and Cranepaw could pick out every blade of grass in his path.

He was surprised that he was allowed to go to the Gathering tonight. After Silversong's death, he'd shown no interest in anything—not hunting, not stealth training, not even eating. He knew his ribs were a bit more prominent than they should be but he liked it. Hunger kept him on guard. It kept him focused.

And he would certainly be focused tonight.

Fourtrees was empty. Raggedstar flicked his tail and the ShadowClan warriors dispersed to their usual positions, sitting half-shaded from the moon, their eyes alight as they waited for the other Clans. Raggedstar himself leapt to the top of the Great Rock, Cloudpelt prowling around below him.

Foxheart had been killed a few days previously in a rat attack at Carrionplace. Cranepaw had been absolutely positive that Brokentail had something to do with it, burning with the desire to report him to Raggedstar, but it had fallen through. Brokentail had been with Nightpelt himself on the ThunderClan border, checking out the scent-markers there.

Just because he seemed contrite didn't mean he didn't do it, Cranepaw thought. Besides, raw desire was in Brokentail's eyes in the few heartbeats between Raggedstar's eulogy to Foxheart and his appointment of Cloudpelt had given him away: he wanted to be deputy, despite him only having an apprentice for a pawful of days. He'd looked furious when his father hadn't chosen him for deputy.

Cranepaw glanced over to where the dark warrior was crowded close to Blackfoot, their heads bent together as they whispered. Brokentail caught Cranepaw's gaze and held it, his orange eyes burning, until Cranepaw had to look away, feeling ashamed.

Nightpelt was beside Cranepaw suddenly, bending to whisper into his ear, "Remember, don't give away anything to the other Clans. You can talk to them but don't say anything about ShadowClan. Keep it simple."

Racingpaw puffed out his chest. "Shall I tell them how I snuck onto WindClan territory two days ago and caught a rabbit?"

Cranepaw and Nightpelt laughed at that but Crowtail, who had happened to pass by at the wrong time, whipped over to her apprentice.

Cuffing him hard over the ear, she growled, "You better keep that to yourself, or you'll worry about plucking ticks off of StarClan's warriors!"

"Geez," Racingpaw muttered, rubbing his head crossly as Crowtail walked away. "You'd think she'd have warmed up to me by now. Sour old rat."

Nightpelt said sternly, "Racingpaw, as a warrior of ShadowClan, I have to tell you that you shouldn't talk that way about your mentor. Raggedstar picked her especially for you." Then, after a quick glance over his shoulder, he added in a lower tone, "But if I'm speaking as myself, I would have to agree that Crowtail is a sour old rat, as well as a bumblepaws. But of course, as a warrior of ShadowClan, I couldn't say that, could I?" He nodded once to them before walking away, stately as ever, to talk to Ashfur and Brightflower.

Racingpaw watched him go, exhilarated glee on his face. "Did I ever tell you that you have the _coolest _mentor ever? Seriously, I don't think Nightpelt could get any cooler if he was soaked to the skin in the middle of leaf-bare."

"That's quite the extensive metaphor," Cranepaw said.

Racingpaw turned to him, surprised. "Are you angry at me?"

"No."

"Are you angry at someone?"

"No."

"Are you angry—"

"Racingpaw, I'm not angry at anybody."

With a little less concern and a lot more teasing, Racingpaw bounced from paw to paw, scuffing up clouds of dust. "So if you're not angry, you must be happy, right? Or sad, or excited, or gleeful, or depressed, or—"

"Or annoyed! Because some bigmouthed rabbit thief won't stop blabbering!" Cranepaw pounced onto his back, pushing Racingpaw into the dirt. They scuffled for a little bit before Crowtail made an angry gesture in their direction, her pale eyes cold and cutting as ice, and they quickly parted, laughing.

And that was one of the many reasons Cranepaw was so fond of Racingpaw. Even if his friend knew he didn't want to talk about something, he wouldn't push it. Racingpaw, in his Racingpaw way, would change the subject and make it fun.

There was a ripple of motion as ShadowClan warriors perked their ears, falling into defensive alertness. Cranepaw followed their gazes to see a wave of cats come streaking down the side of the hill into Fourtrees. They smelled like mud and salt.

_RiverClan, _Cranepaw thought. His eyes slid over the warriors, trying, as he always did, to pick out any similarities between them and himself. One of them was his father. Was it the tough deputy? The black warrior? The tom with green eyes and a pale pelt?

He tried to convince himself that it didn't matter and it didn't: he didn't need a father. He needed to find out who had killed his mother.

A small dark tabby apprentice was sitting off to the side by himself. He was looking to the south ridge, his nose twitching.

"Wait here," Cranepaw said to Racingpaw, who was eyeing a battle-scarred tom with acute interest, obviously dying to ask him how he managed to get so many.

"No problem," Racingpaw said easily, starting towards the tom.

"Are you waiting for WindClan?" Cranepaw asked as he trotted up to the apprentice, sitting down beside him. Their shoulders didn't line up; Cranepaw had to tip his head down to look the apprentice in the eyes.

The apprentice looked surprised. "How did you know?" he asked, a bit of a quiver in his voice. He looked young, maybe a bit younger than Cranepaw himself. It must have been his first Gathering.

Cranepaw shrugged, trying not to look like he was prying too much. Cats seemed to shut down at that, and if he wanted information, he had to play it safe. "You just looked it, I guess. Do you have friends there?"

"Yeah, I do," the apprentice said. "Up until one moon ago, I lived in WindClan. This is my first time at a Gathering since then, so I haven't seen my Clanm-my former Clanmates in awhile."

Cranepaw's fur bristled in surprise. "Tallstar let you leave that easily? He didn't even try to stop you?"He thought back to the Tallstar he'd seen, around a moon ago now. He seemed cold and half-starved, concerned over the fate of his Clan. Perhaps it had been easier for him to let a few apprentices go to feed the older cats.

"Well, I...I wouldn't say that," he answered hesitantly. "The real problem came with trying to get Crookedstar to accept me. I finally just finished my trial period yesterday."

"That's a shame," Cranepaw said, aiming for sympathetic and hoping he was achieving it. "I'm Cranepaw by the way. ShadowClan."

"Owlpaw," the apprentice said, looking a bit relieved. "RiverClan. Barely."

Cranepaw laughed. "How have things been in RiverClan? Anything out of the ordinary? Besides your joining, of course," Cranepaw said lightly. He watched Owlpaw closely for any trace of doubt or suspicion. If he could get this apprentice to talk, he could find out so much about RiverClan. After all, if what he said was true and he really was halfClan, he shouldn't have any lingering ties to RiverClan yet.

"Well enough." Owlpaw sounded cautious. "Nothing strange. Why, is there something in particular you wanted to know?"

Cranepaw paused for a moment, hating himself for failing so quickly. Deciding to get right to the point, he asked, "Do you know about Silversong?"

He hoped against hope that something would trigger Owlpaw to tell him anything but he looked confused. "Who? Is she in RiverClan? I haven't met her before."

Cranepaw felt bitter disappointment. "Oh. No, she's not in RiverClan. That's fine." He shook himself, trying to clear away the gloominess clouding his thoughts. "No, I was just wondering. It had something to do with patrols. Does Crookedstar send warriors into Fourtrees for patrols?"

"All the way here? Absolutely not. Why would he bother when Fourtrees is a neutral place? There's no one to defend from over here."

_No one would be defended there, _Cranepaw thought darkly. But even as much as he wanted to believe that RiverClan had killed his mother, he couldn't. It just wasn't true.

So that left one last option. Now if only he could _prove _it.

Owlpaw's voice cut across his thoughts. "Do you have some kind of connection with RiverClan?" he asked, sounding a bit nervous again. He was shifting from paw to paw. "Since you're asking about them and all, I mean."

Cranepaw felt a bit of surprise. After so much gossiping from the loudmouth Littlebird, he could have sworn that the entire forest knew of his history—especially a cat from RiverClan, no matter how recently. "I'm…halfClan, too. My father is from RiverClan."

"Really?" Owlpaw sounded so excited that Cranepaw was a bit taken aback. "Who is he? I could give a message to him if he isn't here tonight, if you like."

Cranepaw turned his head away. "Not anyone I know or anyone I care about. My mother never told me who he was. Thanks anyway, though."

"Oh," Owlpaw said. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" He cut off, his head going to the side, his mouth dropping open as he drank in scent.

Half a heartbeat later, Cranepaw scented it too: WindClan had arrived.

Owlpaw was looking wistfully at the sleek-pelted warriors, so Cranepaw said, "Go ahead. Go see your friends. Maybe I'll see you at another Gathering."

"It was nice meeting you," Owlpaw said, his paws already carrying him towards WindClan. He nodded. "I hope we can meet again soon." He ran away, disappearing into the pale pelts of WindClan, and Cranepaw turned away, not entirely disappointed anymore.

The pale young leader Crookedstar had leapt up beside Raggedstar. They barely looked at each other, their backs bristling. Clearly no love was lost there, Cranepaw thought. Timberfur had obviously passed on ShadowClan's message for their leader.

Tallstar made his way more slowly to the Great Rock, shoulder to shoulder with the black deputy Deadfoot. Coiling his legs beneath him, he sprang up onto the rock, stumbling a bit. His claws scraped along the surface of the rock as he struggled. After a moment, Crookedstar took pity on him and pulled him up while Raggedstar watched coldly, his eyes gleaming.

A RiverClan warrior clicked her tongue. "Look at that," she whispered to the WindClan queen beside her. "He didn't even try to help."

Cranepaw heard it and held his tongue, though with difficulty. It wasn't Raggedstar's place to be the WindClan leader's keeper. ShadowClan weren't supposed to worry about the other Clans, not unless they were on ShadowClan territory. Then they'd only have to worry about how much blood there would be beneath their claws before the trespassers were out.

Racingpaw came up to Cranepaw, his eyes bright. "You will not believe the stories I heard from this cat Rapidstrike," he said. "He's been in more battles than Crowtail!"

"Oh really?" Cranepaw asked, trying to delve completely into this new conversation. Anger at others doubting Raggedstar had rubbed him the wrong way.

"Oh yeah. RiverClan's fought against ThunderClan like a hundred times over Sunningrocks. They just won it back three moons ago, he told me. Well, before they lost it again to ThunderClan like a few days ago."

"He told you that?"

Racingpaw nodded eagerly. "He was so cool, Cranepaw. I'll introduce you to him next Gathering."

Cranepaw felt a small bubble of relief beneath his ribs. Something to look forward to, he thought. "Sounds good."

ThunderClan arrived shortly after. Sunstar leapt agilely to the top of the Great Rock, landing with grace that made Cranepaw a bit jealous. His deputy Tawnyspots settled into his position at the base, sitting close to Deadfoot. He looked ill, his fur patchy. As Cranepaw watched, he sniffled.

"Looks like ThunderClan will need a new deputy soon," he whispered to Racingpaw.

Racingpaw was looking over the throng of new warriors, their scent deep and musky, tainted by their territory. "They won't have to look far. ThunderClan look strong. Look at that one near Brokentail!"

He nodded to a dark brown tabby. He had a fresh scar across the bridge of his nose, which made him look even more fearsome. Brokentail had settled in comfortably with the tom, and he and Blackfoot were talking easily with him.

Racingpaw sighed blissfully. "They are too impossibly cool."

"You say 'cool' too much." Cranepaw settled onto his belly, ready to hear the news of the forest. He wondered if Raggedstar would say anything about Silversong. _He must, _he thought. _It's the most important news for ShadowClan. _

"As soon as you find an alternative, I'll be glad to hear it."

Crowtail shot them an ugly look as she walked by, headed to a closer spot. "If I hear you two whispering, I'll put you on mouse bile collection for a moon!"

Racingpaw nodded quickly to her, waiting until her back was turned to mimic her words outrageously. When she spun around angrily, he pretended to yawn widely, his tongue curling.

Cranepaw barely could stifle his laughter.

Sunstar yowled, signaling the beginning of the Gathering. The crowd fell silent at the sound, each cat leaning forward in the darkness, their eyes bright flashes like lightning.

The medicine cats sat in a close group together, each with their face upturned to the moon. Even Runningpaw, sitting shoulder to shoulder with WindClan's new medicine cat apprentice, looked serene and peaceful and untouchable in a way Cranepaw had never thought him. One with StarClan.

Sunstar said, "I will begin. ThunderClan's prey runs well this moon. We are well-fed and strong. Our new expansion to our territory has fed our queens and elders quite well." His eyes flashed to Crookedstar.

"Sunningrocks," Racingpaw muttered.

Crookedstar, to his credit, did not even twitch his whiskers at that. He looked at Sunstar calmly, awaiting his turn.

Sunstar narrowed his yellow eyes a bit. "We have new additions," he went on, sweeping back to the crowd. "Bluefur has recently given birth to a litter of three strong kits. Soon to be strong warriors."

A murmur of appreciation went up.

"We have a new warrior." Sunstar's eyes went to the corner of Fourtrees closest to ShadowClan. "Tigerclaw is now a warrior."

Cranepaw followed his gaze. It was the same dark tabby Brokentail had been talking to earlier. He stood, his chest puffed out with pride, his eyes gleaming. He had dark amber eyes, which looked nearly black in the darkness. After a moment in which the Clans repeated his new name a bit, as if they belonged to ThunderClan too, he sat down next to Brokentail and Blackfoot, continuing to watch the proceedings silently.

He looked to Crookedstar but Tallstar stepped forward. "WindClan are thriving," he said, despite the obviousness of his bones through his fur. "But we have detected scents of ShadowClan near the border. Raggedstar, can you explain this?"

Raggedstar kept his face clear of emotion. "That is news," he agreed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah," Cranepaw agreed, whispering to Racingpaw. "I guess when he told us to hunt freely in the moors he was just joking."

Crowtail's ears twitched and they fell silent, not willing to risk boxed ears or worse—a report to Raggedstar.

Tallstar said sleekly, "You might want to keep a closer check on your warriors, Raggedstar. If they think they can enter WindClan territory without repercussions, they are mistaken."

"You are mistaken, Tallstar, if you believe my warriors would waste time on your desecrated moorland."

"Desecrated!" Tallstar's eyes flashed. Below him, Deadfoot growled low in his throat. "You'd do better to watch your mouth when you speak of one of StarClan's chosen Clans!"

Raggedstar shook his head. "Forgive me, Tallstar. I meant no disrespect. I didn't mean to imply you were a liar."

"A liar?" Tallstar narrowed his eyes. "I don't follow."

Raggedstar turned his shoulder, sharing a glance with Cloudpelt. He said, "Well, you said that you were thriving. Unless looking like roadkill classifies as thriving..."

ShadowClan warriors laughed at the spluttering look of disbelief on Tallstar's face. Cranepaw joined in, feeling a bit bad when Owlpaw caught his eye from a dark mottled WindClan apprentice's side. Cranepaw shrugged it away. He was ShadowClan. He was proud. That was all the explanation he needed.

"We also have a new warrior," Raggedstar went on, ignoring Tallstar's furious hiss. "Stumpytail has earned his warrior name."

As with Tigerclaw, the Clans chanted Stumpytail's new name, though WindClan stayed coldly silent.

Stumpytail, in his usual fashion, didn't seem to notice. He lifted his chin, drinking in the praise, while Clawpaw watched with undisguised jealousy from beside him.

Frowning just slightly, the ShadowClan leader turned to Crookedstar. "I also must announce with great sadness the death of one of our own. Silversong was found murdered on the border of ShadowClan and Fourtrees a few nights ago."

Now the Clans broke their silence. A single gasp went through the clearing, enough that Cranepaw felt the chill of the silence within his bones.

"But she was so young!" Tawnyspots said, his expression aghast.

"Too young to go, I say," a ThunderClan queen murmured to her neighbor, who nodded easily.

Cranepaw felt his eyes seek out any looks of guilt from RiverClan but they all looked regretful, turning to their Clanmates with drooping tails and ears.

He felt the strength of their gazes as they turned to him, their fishy scents catching the breeze, foreign and salty. Obviously his parentage was known on both sides of the border.

"ShadowClan will seek out who did this. Silversong's death will not go unpunished." And to Cranepaw's shock, he turned a fierce eye on the WindClan leader, his lip curling. Was he accusing Tallstar of the murder?

"You better watch yourself, Raggedstar," Tallstar growled, but he backed away from the larger leader; Raggedstar looked triumphant.

It was Crookedstar's turn. He prowled forward, his shoulders moving smoothly beneath his pale pelt. He looked odd, his face twisted into a permanent grimace. Cranepaw wondered why RiverClan would follow such a weak-looking leader, especially since that injury probably taxed him in hunting.

"RiverClan are doing fine this moon," he said, his mew deep and powerful. "We have a new apprentice joining us. Owlpaw."

A murmur of surprise rose up.

"A new apprentice?" Stumpytail muttered, his voice carrying in the silence of the clearing. "How is that possible?"

"Crookedstar, please tell us about this…interesting new development," Sunstar said, his eyes already seeking out the new apprentice.

"Owlpaw has come to join us. He is a good, strong addition to the Clan." Crookedstar turned his face away. "That's all the news from RiverClan."

Sunstar looked surprised at the sudden end to the conversation but didn't say anything.

Tallstar, sensing the end of the Gathering, leapt to the bottom of the Great Rock, cast one foul look back up at Raggedstar, before saying, "This Gathering is over. WindClan, to me!"

Cranepaw watched through the throngs of warriors as Owlpaw followed his WindClan friend to the border, stopping at the edge of the hill, and watching wistfully as the rest of his former Clan disappeared into the night. Cranepaw felt a hollowness in his chest as he watched the apprentice turn to his new Clanmates and head back to their territory.

He supposed he could have made the same decision, to go to RiverClan and try to find his father. But the idea of tasting vengeance was far too strong for that, and his pride wouldn't let him leave ShadowClan. They were in his blood, in his brain. He couldn't cut away ShadowClan from himself as much as he could cut away his own heart.

Racingpaw, easily distracted, had bounded over to Raggedstar's side and was asking a rapid peal of questions, his tail flashing from side to side as he jabbered.

Cranepaw watched for a moment, amused. Then something caught his eye.

The new ThunderClan warrior Tigerclaw was just leaving Brokentail's side, coming out from the thick bushes they'd been sheltering in. What was that about?

Without giving himself time to reconsider, Cranepaw darted for the bushes. Tigerclaw's body held open a cleft spot in the thorns and Cranepaw wriggled in, feeling the thorns bite into his shoulders.

Brokentail didn't wait long after Tigerclaw had left to speak: "He'll work out perfectly."

Blackfoot didn't sound so sure. "When?"

"When I'm leader. He'll be a great asset, Blackfoot. You just wait."

"I'm still not sure about this, Brokentail," Blackfoot said, his voice a bit shaky. "After how Raggedstar looked at you during Cloudpelt's appointment… I think he suspects you."

"Yes, and because of that little rat Cranepaw." There was a sharp sound and Cranepaw imagined, heart hammering, that Brokentail had lashed out with his claws at the bushes. "I can't go anywhere without him following me. He thinks I'm responsible for his pain. Poor pitiful him." He laughed once, an ugly sound.

Cranepaw could barely hold himself still. He was shaking with rage. How dare Brokentail speak about him like that? He was a strong and proud member of ShadowClan.

Blackfoot went on as Cranepaw fumed, and he actually leaned a bit closer to hear. "…but that's the problem. And I don't like how you made me lie to Raggedstar. I'm loyal to you, Brokentail, but ShadowClan comes before friendship."

"It will all be worth it soon," Brokentail replied smoothly. "When you're the deputy, you'll be eating your words now."

"I just don't think it's worth it." Blackfoot sounded defeated then, and Cranepaw imagined him with flattened ears. "All these…lies and secrets. It's not right."

"Put your heart out of this, Blackfoot," Brokentail said, his voice almost lost among the calls of Raggedstar to ShadowClan, gathering them up to head back home. There was the sound of Brokentail standing. "It'll make it a lot easier."

"What?" Blackfoot demanded. "More murder?"

The word went through Cranepaw like a claw.

Brokentail didn't miss a beat. "If you think of it like that, it might be difficult. Try thinking of it as…relocation. We'll get rid of the problem cats and go from there. We'll sweep through ShadowClan like a wave, and scrape all the useless warriors out. ShadowClan will be strong again. If you'll be with me."

Blackfoot sighed tightly. "I'm with you. But I don't want any repeat of that last bit of business. I don't like to get my paws messy. If you're going to…relocate…someone, at least let it be from another Clan."

Brokentail laughed. He slid out of the thorn bush right in front of Cranepaw, stretching each long dark leg as he went. His orange eyes flashed. "Don't worry," he assured Blackfoot, nudging his friend's shoulder. "There won't be a repeat of the Silversong business. That's nice and neat and out of the way now."

They left, hurrying to catch up with Raggedstar, who was waiting at the top of the hill.

Cranepaw was left behind, stuck in place, his legs like ice. He felt frozen all over, his eyes unblinking, his heart beating very quickly in his chest. A film of red danced down over his eyes, blinding him momentarily as a single thought went through his head, over and over again, like the sharp cutting cry of a hawk.

_I'm going to kill Brokentail._

* * *

**Yaaaay~ Revenge~ My favorite theme ever. X3**_  
_

**Thanks to you guys who are reviewing. And to you who are not reviewing-please do! I don't bite, I swear! And I definitely like to get feedback on what you like or what you think is frickin' weird. XD**

**Anyhoo. You go on about your day. Yes yes. ^.^**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	6. Chapter 5

**Sorry, this chapter's a bit shorter than the others but it got done what it needed to get done. XD Thanks for all the new reviewers~ 'Specially you, Shadowchan. =3 I'll get to Float eventually; this is more fun to write. X3**

**Anyways~**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

As soon as Cranepaw got back into ShadowClan's camp, he tugged Racingpaw away from the other warriors. They all went to their den, ready for sleeping, which seemed on the forefront of Racingpaw's mind, too.

"What?" he protested sleepily as Cranepaw pulled him into the side of the thorn barrier, pushing him up against the backside of Yellowfang's den. "What's wrong?"

"Brokentail killed my mother," Cranepaw said, his words falling out in a rushed tumble.

Racingpaw blinked. "Sorry, I'm really tired. I don't think I heard you right."

Cranepaw gritted his teeth. "Brokentail murdered Silversong! Because she rejected him, he killed her!"

"No way," Racingpaw said, his eyes now very wide. "No way, Cranepaw. You've got to be wrong. Brokentail's a ShadowClan warrior! He wouldn't—"

"I heard him," Cranepaw hissed, lowering his head. Thorns pricked deeply into his side but he could barely feel them. The intensity of this moment was overwhelming. He could feel it beating in his blood like fire.

Hesitation glimmered in Racingpaw's half-shaded blue eyes. Cranepaw hated that instant of uncertainty, of pause. It meant that Racingpaw didn't trust him.

"Racingpaw, you've got to believe me," Cranepaw said urgently, leaning forward, every limb straining. "Please. I heard him myself."

Racingpaw's reply was slow in coming. "Cranepaw… I mean, that's a huge thing to accuse someone of. And Brokentail is Raggedstar's son. He wouldn't ever betray the warrior code."

"He told Blackfoot that cats in ShadowClan needed 'relocation.' That he should be the one to get rid of all the weaknesses in ShadowClan so that when he becomes leader, we'll be strong."

"I mean… StarClan, Cranepaw. Murder?" Racingpaw shook his head. "Are you _sure? _You can't just throw around accusations—_"_

"Are you a mousebrain?" Cranepaw snapped. "How else was I supposed to interpret that? He said straight-out that he killed her! My mother is dead because of him!"

Cranepaw waited for a few incredulous heartbeats but Racingpaw said nothing. Furious at his so-called friend, Cranepaw turned on heel and walked away, ignoring Racingpaw's pleas for him to come back. Thorns ripped out stripes of his fur and that made him wince. He felt the blood well up but it still didn't sting as much as Racingpaw's betrayal.

Halfway across camp, Cranepaw caught sight of Raggedstar. He was on his way into his den, just the thick tip of his dark tail showing before it whipped out of sight.

Cranepaw made a snap decision. Without any second thoughts, he marched right over to the den, his eyes narrowed and burning.

"Raggedstar," he called. Closing his eyes, he pressed into the dangling bits of thornless vines—it was the apprentices' job to make sure they stayed that way—and headed into the curved body of the oak tree's trunk.

Before he got any further, something seized him by the scruff, lifting him bodily from the ground.

But Cranepaw was a ten-moon-old apprentice, and it took immense strength to hold him like a kit.

Scent washed over him and he felt a gut-wrenching sense of choked terror.

"Not so quick, Cranepaw." Brokentail hauled him easily back out of the den, tossing him back around the edges of the oak's roots. He stood in front of Cranepaw as he coiled on the ground, fur bristling.

Brokentail's shoulders were wide enough that they blocked out the bright moonlight, which backlit his horrible orange eyes until they glowed like hot coals.

He smirked. "Going to my father? Why?"

Cranepaw tried his best to be brave but he was terrified. His entire body was shivering as he tipped his head back and bared his teeth at Brokentail. "You killed my mother."

Brokentail didn't show a mousetail of regret. "So?"

Cranepaw couldn't believe his ears. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He felt as though he would be sick.

How could this cat admit to killing a fellow warrior so easily?

"You're young," Brokentail said, his voice sounding mockingly sympathetic. "You wouldn't understand."

"I know the difference between loyalty and murder," Cranepaw spat, his claws extending. "You're on the wrong side of that line, Brokentail."

Brokentail laughed lightly, tossing his head. "Ah, Cranepaw. You're amusing. Did you think you would simply walk into my father's den and report me?"

Cranepaw growled as Brokentail loomed over him. "Yes," he said shortly.

"Then you've got guts," Brokentail said, sounding appraising. He tipped his head to the side. "Your mother might have been a traitor but I don't think you are. You're ShadowClan, through and through, aren't you? You've got strong blood. Polluted, of course, by your RiverClan father."

"You're just reaching now." Cranepaw shoved past Brokentail's shoulder, pushing the older cat a little bit. "I've got things to do. I'll see you exiled for this. Or worse—" He let that hang, turning to look significantly at Brokentail.

Brokentail's eyes narrowed. He clearly understood.

ShadowClan had only implemented that punishment once: death. It was a cat a few seasons ago, when Raggedstar hadn't been leader. It was Cedarstar's time then. A she-cat named Blackflower, the medicine cat before Yellowfang, had taken to murdering her enemies with deathberry-filled prey. She got away with it for awhile until Raggedstar became leader and found out about it. Blackflower went to go lay one of her traps at the wrong time in ThunderClan territory and Raggedstar just…let it happen. ThunderClan caught her on their territory, and then she wasn't a problem to ShadowClan anymore.

"You think my father would believe you over me? His own son?" He tipped back his head, which cast dark cutting shadows down the planes of his face. "His heir, his blood, his only kin, versus some halfClan apprentice, raised by a mother who wasn't entirely loyal to ShadowClan." He shook his head. "Sounds like a tough sell to me."

"Then let me give it a try," Cranepaw growled, dipping his head. "We'll see who Raggedstar believes." He turned to go again.

Brokentail's paw came down on Cranepaw's tail, pinning him there. Cranepaw wheeled, terror icy in his throat, as Brokentail leaned down, putting them on eye-level.

"I guess I didn't make this clear enough," he said softly, his breath foul, smelling of blood even though his last prey must have been around sunhigh. "If you try to report me, I will _kill _you. Do you understand? And I won't make it quick like it was with your mother." Brokentail laughed as he smelled Cranepaw's fear. "That's right. So you understand, do you? Say a word to my father and I'll know. And if he exiles me because of it, that won't stop me. If I leave ShadowClan, I will make it my life mission to find you and kill you. No matter how long it takes. Who knows, I might even wait a while, get the taste of being a rogue, and then come back once you're grown with a mate and kits. Then I'll steal you away from them and let you live long enough to watch their suffering, too."

He stepped off of Cranepaw's tail, his expression unbearably smug. He moved aside, letting Cranepaw pass on wildly shaking legs, his fur fluffed out to twice its normal size.

"You just wait, Cranepaw," Brokentail said softly, his voice like the low call of an owl. "I'll be deputy—sooner rather than later. You'd do best to start obeying me now."

Cranepaw's heart felt like a trapped bird in his chest. Icy fear had him in its clutches and he kept thinking over and over again about what Brokentail had said, how he would kill him too, and his future—StarClan, it was going to drive him mad!

He turned halfway across the clearing but Brokentail hadn't gone to the warriors' den; he was talking to Raggedstar, who had come out for a bit of late-night fresh-kill.

Brokentail's eyes locked onto Cranepaw's as he bent to his father's ear, whispering loud enough for Cranepaw to hear: "Yes, Father. She told me that she wished to go to RiverClan a few moons ago. She wanted to be with her mate now that Cranepaw is nearly a warrior. She would have no regrets about leaving ShadowClan knowing that he would be safe with us."

Raggedstar sighed heavily, the mole at his paws forgotten for the moment. "Are you certain, Brokentail?" he asked, sounding hesitant. "Silversong would not abandon ShadowClan. We're her family. She has kin here."

Brokentail nodded solemnly. "I heard correctly. She wished to leave. Something happened to her on the way there." His eyes flashed to Cranepaw. "Perhaps someone wished to stop her from leaving them."

Cranepaw, though his fear, felt a sickening rush of disbelief. Was Brokentail trying to pin the murder on him now?

Raggedstar didn't seem to believe him. "I don't know about that, Brokentail… You've given me quite a lot to think about this night. I need to sleep on this."

Brokentail bent his head obediently. "Of course, Father. I understand. Please, keep in mind that I am always loyal to you and to ShadowClan. I only want the best for us."

Raggedstar laid his tail against his son's shoulder, soft fondness coming into his yellow eyes. "Of course. Your loyalty is never in doubt, Brokentail." He turned and disappeared back into his den, his mole forgotten.

Brokentail watched the mole for a moment, then snatched it up and carried it away, his tail high in the air. His eyes caught Cranepaw's once more from across the clearing, and Cranepaw half-thought Brokentail looked triumphant.

Cranepaw watched him go, his mind reeling, his legs unable to stop shaking.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Cranepaw avoided Racingpaw for a while after that, choosing to mull things over by himself. That was what he had picked to do that day. Finished with his ambush training for the moment, Cranepaw laid up in a tree, letting his forepaws dangle, his chin resting on the branch.

He heard paws trotting by and he straightened, holding perfectly still, knowing his smoke-gray pelt would blend in perfectly with the smooth bark behind him. His white paws were tucked up and out of the way, which left him with no color but that dreary dark gray.

It was the sunhigh patrol. Brackenfoot was in the lead, followed by Poolcloud, Archeye, and Rosepaw. Poolcloud was telling Rosepaw a story of how Archeye had gotten himself stuck in a hollow log before, and how it had taken four warriors all day to claw away enough of the rotten wood to get him free.

Archeye did not seem to appreciate this story. He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Must you, Poolcloud? I preferred it when my apprentice worshipped the ground I walked on."

"Oh, she still does that," Brackenfoot supplied, his whiskers twitching with amusement.

Rosepaw looked at Archeye, her tail waving. "If you stopped being so great all the time, then perhaps I wouldn't worship you so much, Archeye."

He purred, obviously pleased, and brushed his tail over his apprentice's ears. "Let's keep the stories to a minimum, Poolcloud. Unless, of course, you want to talk about the time you got so frightened about a mouse appearing that you yowled loud enough to alert ThunderClan. They thought she was an injured kit. And that was when she was already a _warrior."_

The group laughed, even Poolcloud. Rosepaw tossed her head back as she laughed, and as she did, she caught Cranepaw's eye. Her eyes widened and she look confused. She mouthed, _What are you doing? _

Cranepaw just twitched an ear.

Rosepaw looked worried, her brows low over her eyes. "Archeye, may I be excused? I'm not feeling so well."

Archeye turned immediately to his apprentice, his eyes concerned. "Are you sick?"

"I think I ate a bad frog. My belly's hurting." She made a convincing wince, curling in on herself a bit.

Poolcloud clicked her tongue. "You better get to Yellowfang right away. She'll give you some juniper or watermint for that bellyache."

"I will." Rosepaw shuffled from paw to paw, her expression miserable.

"Well, get going," Archeye said, already turning away. "You're excused for the day. If you're feeling better later, we'll do some sneak training, okay?"

"Okay," Rosepaw said, evidently relieved.

She turned and headed back towards ShadowClan, just long enough until the patrol was out of the way. Then she darted back to the tree and climbed it agilely, coming to a stop in the branch just above Cranepaw's. Her striped tail waved in the breeze.

"What are you doing, Cranepaw?" she whispered. "Why are you here by yourself? Where's Nightpelt?"

"I finished my training for today," he said. "I just wanted to…think a bit."

Her eyes softened. "About Silversong?"

It was the easiest option, so he just nodded.

Rosepaw said, "You don't have to be alone, you know. You have your friends. Racingpaw and Whitewind. Nightpelt. And me," she added softly, almost as an afterthought.

That made his heart kickstart a little bit. "Th-th-that's very nice of you, Rosepaw," he said, getting tongue-tied. His pelt felt hot. "Thank you."

Rosepaw purred, looking forward. From this height, they could see the pale gleam of the Thunderpath and beyond that, Fourtrees. The tops of those oaks' crests were deeply dark green, even this late in green-leaf.

Cranepaw enjoyed the comfortable silence. It was lonely up here by himself but now with Rosepaw here, he felt like he could stay here all day long. He looked up at her surreptitiously, admiring the sun gleaming off her ginger tabby pelt, which was unusually pale for a ShadowClan cat, her slightly paler legs, the bright gleam of her yellow eyes, bright as the sun.

She was so beautiful. He'd always liked her, and admired her. But she would never like a cat like him, small and scrawny and above all—halfClan. What kind of mate would he make for a pureblooded ShadowClan warrior when he himself was a mongrel?

Rosepaw caught his eye, her own softening. "Do you want to talk about it, Cranepaw?"

After a moment in which he just looked at her, he shook his head. He wasn't the one for her. He knew that. And that was never going to change.

Thankfully, she changed the subject herself. "Have you noticed about Clawpaw?" she asked.

"No?" He thought hard. Clawpaw had been sleeping in the apprentices' den as usual but he never talked to any of them, except maybe Rosepaw. He was older than them, closer to getting his name. His brown tabby bulk filled a good portion of the den.

Rosepaw looked away. The set of her mouth and eyes was sad, like she was in mourning. "He's been spending an awful lot of time with Brokentail and Blackfoot. Stumpytail, too, but I can't do anything more about him." She looked down at him. "I know you don't like Brokentail, Cranepaw, but I just think you should realize how dangerous he is."

"Dangerous?" This was interesting. Of all the times they'd talked about Brokentail, Rosepaw had never cited an example of why she was afraid of him, just that she didn't trust him. "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever been on patrol with him?" she asked. When Cranepaw shook his head, she said, "The way he goes after prey… It's not normal. It's brutal. He rips his prey apart." She looked away, the soft fur over her shoulders spiking. "I've only seen him do it once and when he caught me, he made me swear not to tell. But I couldn't get that image out of my head… All that blood. And he _enjoyed _it. You could tell." She shivered.

Cranepaw reached up and touched his nose gently to her shoulder. Sitting on his branch, his eyes were level with hers. "You don't have to be afraid of him," he said softly, his heart thumping again. Rosepaw's eyes were very lovely this close; he could see little flecks of darker gold and green in them. "I'll protect you."

Rosepaw purred softly, the sound rusty. "Are you going to be like the handsome, charming tom in all the kit-stories, who sweeps in at the last second to save the pretty she-cat from disaster?"

His heart catching a bit on the word _handsome, _Cranepaw said honestly, "I definitely wouldn't call you pretty. You're beautiful, Rosepaw."

Rosepaw leaned forward suddenly and pressed her nose to his. Her purr grew stronger. "No one's ever called me beautiful before. Except my mother, and she doesn't really count." She tried to make it into a joke.

Cranepaw said, "They should more often." He was still feeling flushed from Rosepaw's gentle nose; it was much softer than Racingpaw's or Whitewind's or even Nightpelt's.

"Come on," Rosepaw said, flicking her tail over his ear. "Let's get back."

"Yeah," he said dreamily, watching her leapt to the ground before following. Clearing his throat, he said, "After all, you've got a bellyache to tend to."

Rosepaw rolled her eyes.

* * *

**Woo~ A kind of happy ending, I guess, maybe. XD**

**I hope you like it~ **

**I've gotta go sing in choir now, so I'll get to that whole writing-Float thing later~ **

**I'm such a procrastinator. Lololol**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	7. Chapter 6

**Yay! Another chapter! I really do like how this one turned out, and because no one really reads this story anyway, I'm going to post it without any regrets. XD**

* * *

"Very good," Nightpelt called from his perch in the tree above. From his perspective, he could look right down into the bramble training area, where Cranepaw and Racingpaw were practicing their sneaking. "Now again. This time, try to find the tansy bush. Whoever gets there first wins."

Racingpaw, who was muddied up to his chin and tired, said, "He thinks we're invincible, I guess. We've been doing this all day long!"

It was leaf-fall now, but that had only increased the aggravation of the marsh. It sank up to Cranepaw's elbows, soaking his belly fur, staining the white to a deep brown the color of Racingpaw's fur.

Cranepaw knew he was coming along fantastically with his training. He could get within two kitten-steps of a vole without it even sensing him. He could blend his pelt into the dappled shade of a bramble without being detected. He could cover his scent so well that not even Racingpaw could identify him.

Though he hadn't had to prove that training in battle yet. The Clans were calm—well, the ones that mattered, namely ShadowClan. ThunderClan and RiverClan were always fighting over Sunningrocks, but that wasn't any concern of Cranepaw's.

Raggedstar's interest was focused solely on WindClan. He still ordered his cats onto their territory to steal prey, though Cranepaw wasn't sure why. WindClan were already weak. What was the point of weakening them even further? It would kill them. That would anger StarClan.

Clawpaw, who was stalking by, equally as muddy and twice as disgruntled, heard Racingpaw's comment and snapped, "Don't be a moron. This is for Raggedstar, remember. Don't you want to be a warrior?"

Cranepaw felt a bristle of irritation. "We're still two moons away from our ceremony. Shouldn't yours have been last moon, Clawpaw?"

Clawpaw's amber eyes lit with fury. He made an aggressive move towards Cranepaw but Racingpaw leapt to his side, his back arched, his fangs bared.

Clawpaw, either unwilling or unable to fight against two Clanmates, raised a lip in disgust and turned away.

"Stupid halfClan mongrel," he spat as he went, his fur up along his entire spine and neck. He glared at Cranepaw before turning away again, lifting his chin. "You think you're better than us? We're going to be real warriors and you'll just be a sorry excuse for ShadowClan! Just like your traitor mother."

That did it. Cranepaw, frustrated by the repetitiveness of this lesson and by the cramps in his shoulders from hunching, lost his temper. He leapt forward, ignoring any pretense of stealth, and sank his fangs into the loose tabby fur of Clawpaw's neck.

Clawpaw let out a high-pitched yowl of shock before spinning, flinging Cranepaw off. Cranepaw hit the ground with a puff of dust, the air crushed from his lungs. Without waiting for him to recover, Clawpaw was in the air and pouncing.

Clawpaw's claws sank into Cranepaw's belly. These weren't any practice moves: Clawpaw was out for blood. His claws curled into Cranepaw's fur like blackthorns, sinking right up to the skin, tearing a gash in the fur deep enough to bleed. Cranepaw yowled as Clawpaw savaged the skin there.

Past Clawpaw's tabby shoulder, Cranepaw could see Racingpaw leap onto the older apprentice's back, aiming for his ears. Green eyes blazing, he sank his teeth again and again into Clawpaw's ears, grabbing and pulling hard enough for the ear to split.

Clawpaw, enraged at being double-teamed, turned his attention to Racingpaw, leaving his neck and face open for attack.

It was a chance worth waiting for.

Cranepaw's claws sliced deeply into Clawpaw's muzzle, ripping through the skin and fur easily. Blood spattered everywhere, freckling Cranepaw's nose and cheek, hanging in heavy scarlet drops on his whiskers. He could taste it on his tongue, hot and coppery.

Nightpelt was yowling in the background but Cranepaw couldn't hear him. He was in the midst of a battle, his first one, and he would not lose.

Clawpaw retreated, shaking his head, the blood in his eyes blinding him, and Racingpaw and Cranepaw moved forward fluidly as one. Cranepaw waited for Racingpaw to stalk around behind Clawpaw before lunging again. He sank his claws and fangs into Clawpaw's thick fur, twisting him to the ground with his body weight.

Clawpaw managed to stay standing. He staggered backwards, trying to throw Cranepaw off. His hindquarters hit Racingpaw and he lost his balance. Flailing for footing, he fell to his side, allowing Racingpaw to swoop in, his mouth open, fangs bared—

And then Crowtail was there. She plucked her apprentice and threw him away as easily as if he was a bird's weight. "_Stop it right now!" _she shrieked, her blazing eyes turning on Cranepaw, her pupils sharp slits.

But Cranepaw wouldn't let go. This was good, this feeling, this adrenaline singing through his veins. He closed his eyes against Clawpaw's barrage of strikes, concentrating solely on retaining his grip.

Nightpelt's scent flooded over him, dark and earthy, and suddenly he was half off the ground, his hind paws churning the air as Nightpelt seized his tail.

"Let go, Cranepaw." He sounded remarkably calm. "Let go now."

Cranepaw growled and held tighter. He could feel the rasp of bone against his teeth. Clawpaw screeched as Cranepaw bit deeper.

"Cranepaw! Let _go!"_

At the sound of Nightpelt's anger, dark like a thunderhead, Cranepaw finally released Clawpaw.

Clawpaw skittered back a fox-length, his side scratched and bloody, his face a mess of torn fur and bright pink skin.

Cranepaw, hanging in Nightpelt's jaws, laughed at the sight. "That's what you get when you pick a fight with the wrong cat!" He licked his lips, tasting Clawpaw's blood, and called wildly, "Tastes like coward's blood to me! How's that better than halfClan?"

Crowtail, who had given Racingpaw a sound thrashing, turned on Nightpelt. "This is completely unacceptable, Nightpelt!" she hissed. "Clawpaw is injured! Look at his face! What will Pansypelt say when she sees her son's condition? And Raggedstar? Did you forget that Clawpaw is the leader's apprentice?"

Cranepaw, his paws still, his chest pounding, had forgotten all of that. His breath caught. Would they banish him for this? For attacking a Clanmate?

Racingpaw, lying flat on his belly a few paces away, looked like he was thinking similarly. His green eyes were round as moons as he looked at his mentor. "Crowtail—"

"I will deal more thoroughly with you later, Racingpaw." Her voice left no room for argument. "Nightpelt. An answer?"

Nightpelt sighed heavily, but his tail was lashing in quick, uneven movements. He was furious, even if he didn't look it. "Clawpaw, how did this happen?"

Clawpaw, who was coiled miserably, nursing his wounds, froze in mid-lick. "They both attacked me, Nightpelt. I didn't do anything wrong—"

"That's a lie!" Cranepaw yowled. "He insulted me, Nightpelt! He called me halfClan, that I wasn't a real ShadowClan warrior!"

Crowtail, her eyes gleaming nastily, said, "Both are true."

Cranepaw stared at her incredulously. Anger ripped through him like a wildfire. He was half-shocked that Crowtail didn't catch fire with the strength of it.

Nightpelt, thankfully, spoke up. Laying his tail on the dark gray she-cat's shoulder, he said lightly, "Not helpful, Crowtail. Cranepaw, what did Clawpaw tell you?"

Cranepaw gritted his teeth. Glaring straight at Clawpaw, he said, "Clawpaw told me I would never be a real ShadowClan warrior, that I was a sorry excuse for a ShadowClan cat…"

"With your behavior currently, he is correct." Crowtail made a move to go on but Nightpelt cut her off. She shot him a dirty look but remained silent, holding true to his position as senior warrior.

"I will deal with disciplining my own apprentice, Crowtail. For now, this training session is over." He turned sharp green eyes on Clawpaw, his black fur riled up along his shoulders. "Go straight to Yellowfang. Say nothing to anyone about what happened. I will talk to Raggedstar myself. Cranepaw, you have dishonored ShadowClan and myself by your behavior today. You and Racingpaw will be confined to camp for the next half-moon, taking care of the elders and the queens. If Yellowfang has need of you for herb-gathering or tick-picking, she will have you without complaint. That is your punishment."

Racingpaw, looking disgusted at the thought of plucking ticks off the elders, said, "What about Clawpaw? Doesn't he deserve punishment?"

Nightpelt said grimly, "He'll have it. Those wounds will leave scars."

Clawpaw, who had heard that, looked pained even more, his eyes filling with disappointment so strong that Cranepaw almost felt bad for him.

Cranepaw felt a burst of dark satisfaction at that. _Clawpaw may become a so-called true warrior of ShadowClan but everyone will see his scarred face and know he lost a terrible battle. _

They were led back to camp and Nightpelt deposited them outside the medicine den for Yellowfang to tend to. Crowtail, furious at her apprentice, left immediately without saying another word, her dark gray fur spiking.

Nightpelt stayed a moment longer, his green eyes on his apprentice. "Cranepaw, I am very disappointed in you. I trained you better than that. ShadowClan warriors are not vicious thugs like ThunderClan. We do not attack in full sight."

"Should I have waited until I was in the shadows to attack?" Cranepaw said, miserably defiant.

Nightpelt sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "You shouldn't attack a Clanmate at all, no matter what they say. You should be used to such petty taunts, Cranepaw. And you will get very used to them, since you will be cleaning out Littlebird's and Hollyflower's bedding for a long time." He turned and walked away, his lithe legs sweeping him across the clearing and into Raggedstar's den before Cranepaw could articulate a response.

Racingpaw watched him go darkly. "Nothing is fair," he spat. "We didn't do anything wrong. If he was any other cat, he'd be congratulating us on defending our honor." He licked a patch of torn fur on his shoulder, the blood staining his dark brown pelt even darker.

"Well, Crowtail's another cat and she certainly wasn't pleased." They walked into the medicine den, their heads close together as they whispered. "I guess she's going to strangle you more later."

Racingpaw rolled his eyes. "Let her try, that sour old—" He cut off with a weird keyed-up sound of glee when Clawpaw excited the medicine den, favoring one paw heavily.

Clawpaw's muzzle was wrapped in cobwebs. The portion that wasn't white was sticky with a strong-smelled poultice of something yellow and green. His eyes were swollen and watery from the strength of the herbs, which made him sniffle.

"What a look!" Racingpaw crowed. "I've never seen you looking better, Clawpaw. You're the spitting image of Runningpaw. Well," he went on sleekly, "if he had been stung by a bee. Or two. Or an entire _hive."_

Clawpaw opened his mouth angrily, then, seeming to think better of it, closed it and went on his way. Though he couldn't settle the raised spikes of fur on his back and shoulders or the angry, tense set of his ears. He disappeared into the apprentices' den, getting a shocked look from Rosepaw as he passed her.

Racingpaw laughed again, triumphant. "Can you believe it?" he said, turning to Cranepaw. "We actually did that. I never thought I'd feel so happy about getting punished. In fact, I think this is the pinnacle of our lives, Cranepaw."

"I would certainly hope not. I wanted the pinnacle of my life to be a little less painful."

The inside of the den was cool and green. It smelled spicy and strange, but somehow pleasant. Cranepaw didn't come into the medicine den often because of the smell and the company, which was rapidly approaching in the form of two disgruntled cats.

Runningpaw came over first, sniffling as usual. He didn't look anything like Racingpaw, even though they were littermates: Runningpaw's pelt was white splashed with gray, in wide cloud-like patches, and his eyes were weakly blue. He had whitecough, or something like it: he was always sneezing and bumping into things, like his eyes were too full of wateriness for him to see very well.

"Hello, Racingpaw," Runningpaw said, a measure of contempt for his brother in his tone. "Got yourself into trouble again?"

"Oh please." Racingpaw sighed as he lay on the ground of the den, stretching out his dark legs. "Like you _ever_ get into trouble. What could you do, mix juniper with foxglove and give a poor cat a headache?"

"That's my apprentice, remember." Yellowfang made her appearance. Massive and scary with bright orange eyes and a flat face, she was a cat Cranepaw stayed away from. She towered over him, almost as tall as Nightpelt. "If you like your whiskers where they are, you'll keep your mouth shut. And while it's cute you're trying to pretend you're smart, do better next time: mixing up juniper and foxglove would kill a cat, not just give them a headache."

"But how can he be a medicine cat?" Racingpaw protested, ignoring the barb despite the visible, aggravated jerk of his tail at it. "He can't even cure his own cold!"

Runningpaw shot his brother a dirty look as he pressed a pawful of herbs against Racingpaw's dark shoulder, pushing a little harder than necessary. Racingpaw hissed in a breath, shooting his brother a dirty look.

Cranepaw felt a pang of fear as Yellowfang approached, a bundle of herbs hanging from her jaws. "Calm down," she said, her voice raspy. "I won't hurt you."

Cranepaw held perfectly still as she treated his ear, which had been ripped at the tip. "Will it grow back?"

"Probably not." She licked the crust of blood off of it, peering closely. She smelled funny, like herbs and the salty tang of blood. "You'll have a scar."

Cranepaw sighed heavily.

Yellowfang purred. "Worse things have happened. Remember your friend, Clawpaw."

"Clawpaw's not my friend," Cranepaw said sharply.

Yellowfang made a noise of compliance. "Nor anyone else's, I fear. No one but Brokentail and Blackfoot." Her voice was even but Cranepaw wondered if he was just imagining the undercurrent in it. Medicine cats were supposed to be above the Clan life but perhaps Yellowfang was not.

_So others have noticed Clawpaw's new best friends besides Rosepaw. _Cranepaw looked away uncomfortably.

Yellowfang stepped back, satisfaction in her orange eyes. "Good. You're done." She turned to Racingpaw, who was still stretched out and being treated. "Your friend needs more time. You go on and start your punishment. I'll tend to Racingpaw."

Cranepaw didn't think twice about that. Shooting Racingpaw a sympathetic glance, he fled out of the medicine den and into the clearing.

Brokentail and Blackfoot were nowhere in view, which was a relief. Yarrowstripe was padding to the fresh-kill pile, Whitewind at his side. Her tiny kits were stumbling along beside her, their paws stumpy. Both were dark-pelted and still blue-eyed. He'd met them before but she hadn't named them yet.

Whitewind looked up as he approached, her eyes lighting. "Cranepaw," she purred, licking where the poultice had dripped down his ear. "I heard the news. How could you and Racingpaw get into so much trouble?" She sounded chiding but not disappointed, which was relieving. Her kits looked up at Cranepaw with huge blue eyes.

Behind her, Yarrowstripe said, "Clawpaw's been howling it around the clearing to anyone who'll listen. It looks like you don't have many fans, Cranepaw."

Cranepaw felt a sour taste come across his tongue. "Oh well," he said, more sharply than he'd meant. "I didn't have many of those in the first place."

"Oh, Cranepaw." Whitewind's eyes, green like Racingpaw's, were sympathetic. "Don't be like that. You have friends in the Clan; don't think otherwise." Her eyes drifted behind his shoulder, fixing on some point there. "Maybe even more. Who knows." Her eyes twinkling, she pressed her nose to his once more, then turned and walked away back to the nursery, calling for her kits to follow.

Watching her go, feeling confused, he didn't even notice Rosepaw pad up beside him.

"Clawpaw's very angry with you," she informed him, her voice soft.

His stomach twisting from her nearness, he said, "And you?" Her soft scent wreathed in his nose, making it hard to keep a straight thought.

She was silent for a moment, her head to the side. Then she reached out and touched the tip of his ripped ear with her nose, very softly. "I think that you protected yourself. You defended your honor. That's admirable to me."

Blissfully happy, he watched her walk away, a litheness to her walk that was hypnotizing.

She was so beautiful. Why couldn't he sound smarter around her? It seemed like every time he tried to talk to her, he stumbled on his words or his tongue or his own stupidity. He shook his head from side to side, trying to clear it.

He walked to a sunny spot in the middle of camp where he could see both the entrance to the camp and Raggedstar's den. Nightpelt hadn't returned yet; clearly they were still thinking over a punishment worthy of attacking a Clanmate, aside from half a moon's worth of torture. Cranepaw's belly roiled with the thought of it.

Yellowfang pressed out from the medicine den, her voice low as she commanded something to Runningpaw. Her eyes caught Cranepaw's from across the clearing and she nodded to him once before ducking out of the camp.

_Out for herbs, _he thought, his eyes heavy. His ear and side stung from Clawpaw's blows, though they were easily ignorable. He lay his head on his paws, trying to steady his breathing. The fur of his cheek smell like Rosepaw. It was…nice.

Someone screamed.

Cranepaw jolted awake, unaware that he'd been sleeping. It was dark now, liquid shadows pouring across the camp's floor.

In the center stood Brightflower. Her mouth was open in an endless wail, her fur standing on end all over her body. Between her paws were two small bodies, curled close in the dust.

Cranepaw, with a dizzying sense of falling, recognized those dark pelts: Volepaw and Mosspaw. He ran forward.

The Clan had gathered quickly by the time he'd arrived. Nightpelt and Crowtail were at the front, closely pressed by Archeye, Cinderfur, Ashfur, Brackenfoot, and Littlebird.

Whitewind let out a cry of horror at the sight of the apprentices, their pelts torn and bloody with a warrior's set of wounds. "Yellowfang! Yellowfang!"

"Yellowfang won't help these apprentices." It was Brokentail, stalking forward. There was blood around his mouth and on his paws, and Cranepaw thought to himself before he could help it, _Yes. Yes. Proof. Finally, unquestionable proof that he murdered these cats: his own apprentice. _

But Blackfoot was watching with undisguised horror. His eyes were so wide that Cranepaw could see the whites all the way around the yellow. He stood trembling near his apprentice's small, still body, pressing his muzzle against her side and talking to her, begging her in a low, rough voice to wake up.

Brokentail laid his tail across his friend's shoulders, his eyes sparking. "Bring her in!" he commanded, sounding startlingly like Raggedstar, like a leader.

And from the den where they kept prisoners when they had them came Yellowfang, flanked by Clawpaw and Stumpytail. She was ragged-pelted and bleeding, limping heavily on one paw.

Raggedstar, tearing himself away from the apprentices, shouted, "What is this? Brokentail, explain yourself!" He was shaking with the strength of his anger, his fur fluffed out to twice its normal size. "How dare you take the medicine cat captive! StarClan will—"

"StarClan will approve!" Brokentail said, his yowl somehow triumphant. "They will sing praises of me because I have stopped history from repeating. Yes," he said, sweeping on, turning to face his Clanmates. "I have snuffed out another Blackflower, another poisonous medicine cat. I found Yellowfang over the bodies of these apprentices, her claws soaked with blood! She attacked them and then watched them die!"

Cranepaw felt his heart stop. He whipped to Yellowfang, who had slumped to the ground, held down by the pain of her wounds. Beside her, Runningpaw had dashed to her side, pressing his nose against her pelt.

In a voice that was so distorted with rage it was almost unrecognizable, she snarled, "You are a liar and a coward, Brokentail. I wouldn't touch a hair on a ShadowClan apprentice's head! I did not do this."

Raggedstar looked stunned with disbelief. It was the first time since Cranepaw could remember that he looked unsure. "Brokentail, how—"

"I saw her myself, Father," Brokentail said, cutting the leader off. "She had a look of hatred upon her face as she watched them in their last death-throws. Perhaps she wished to rid the Clan of the younger generation. Perhaps she wanted practice so she could kill her own apprentice in time."

At that, Runningpaw froze in his ministrations. He backed up several hasty steps. He looked to Yellowfang, his eyes wide. "It's not true, is it?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Of course it's not, you moron!" Yellowfang snapped. "I am a medicine cat. I would not raise my claws against anyone, let alone my own Clan! I found those kits in the training hollow and I was seeing if they were okay, if they were still breathing after all that blood…" She closed her eyes and shivered, agony in the gesture.

"But you were a warrior before," Brokentail said, his expression alight with viciousness. He turned to Raggedstar. "She might have grown tired of healing and wanted to go back to killing!"

Brightflower, who had been moaning over the bodies of her dead kits, turned to Yellowfang. Her stance was aggressive, her head bent. "Murderer," she hissed. "You killed my kits!"

"No!" Yellowfang's eyes were wide and round as eggs now. "No, I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Raggedstar—"

But Littlebird chimed in first, her graying fur bristling. "How could you? We trusted you with our lives, Yellowfang! This is how you repay us? With young blood?"

"I have done nothing wrong!" Yellowfang yowled. "Please. Raggedstar. Cloudpelt." She sounded desperate now as she turned to each cat. "Cinderfur, you were my mentor when I was a warrior apprentice. Tell them! Tell them I wouldn't do this!"

But the old tom, a pawstep away from the elders' den, simply looked sad. "I never thought you would be capable of this, Yellowfang."

Yellowfang stared in disbelief.

Cranepaw, unable to watch any longer, spoke up. "Did anyone else see her? I don't think that—"

"It doesn't matter what _you _think, halfClan," Hollyflower snarled. "Of course you'd want to weaken ShadowClan so your RiverClan kin can thrive! Look what you did to Clawpaw!"

Cranepaw, struck into horrified and humiliated silence, turned to Yellowfang, unable to do anything else to help her. Shame burned through his pelt.

She watched him through the throng of yowling, hissing warriors. In her eyes, Cranepaw saw the truth. One look to Brokentail confirmed it.

He was giddy, euphoric. A head above the other cats and soaring from this triumph, he looked at Yellowfang like she was a piece of prey: eager and greedy. Not the face of a mentor mourning his apprentice.

The face of a murderer.

"Fine," Yellowfang said quietly. She stood, pushing aside Clawpaw roughly. "No one will hear the truth so… I will go."

Raggedstar stepped forward, between Yellowfang and the Clan. Cranepaw couldn't see his face but there was a strange thinness to his tone when he asked, "Does this mean you accept the punishment?" When she said nothing, he added in a grim tight tone, "You are banished. If any ShadowClan cat catches you on our territory, they have my permission to kill you. Because of this atrocity, you have become a traitor to everything ShadowClan holds dear. Don't show your face here again or you won't live long enough to regret it."

A burst of agony crossed Yellowfang's face before she hid it. Walking, stately, to the exit to camp, she turned and said in a suddenly deep voice, "ShadowClan will regret this betrayal. Before the season ends, you will experience tragedy beyond your most terrifying nightmares." Then she left, limping slightly, until her dark form was swallowed up by shadows.

In the several heartbeats of tense silence after these words, Littlebird spoke up. "Look at her, trying to pretend she speaks with StarClan. Murderer."

"Shut up, Littlebird," Cloudpelt growled.

The elder shot him a filthy look.

Cranepaw found Racingpaw through the crowd. He was limping, too, his back a plastered mess of herbs and juices.

"Cranepaw," he gasped. "Can you believe it? Yellowfang and those apprentices…"

"No," he said shortly. "I don't believe it."

Racingpaw turned to him very quickly. His eyes were solemn, searching. It wasn't a normal Racingpaw expression. "You think Brokentail did it." It wasn't a question.

Cranepaw turned and dipped his head below his shoulders, eyeing the surroundings watchfully. Behind Racingpaw, the Clan was still bickering, still arguing, the bodies of the two fallen forgotten in their pettiness.

Cranepaw, clenching his jaw, nodded.

Racingpaw let out a long breath and was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke: "What do we do?"

Cranepaw turned and looked at Brokentail. His moment of ecstasy was gone now, replaced by a genuine-looking mournfulness. He even brushed Mosspaw's ears gently, closing his eyes as if in pain.

Cranepaw didn't believe in for a heartbeat. "We stop him," he said darkly. He turned to Racingpaw. "At all costs."

He waited for Racingpaw's expression to change to disgust. He knew what Cranepaw was implying, what it meant. It meant getting his paws bloody, turning into something irretrievable. A traitor to ShadowClan. A murderer, just like Brokentail.

But Racingpaw was remarkably calm when he replied easily, as if this was a normal conversation, "What do you need?"

Cranepaw let out a sharp breath of shock. He hadn't expected Racingpaw to agree so quickly. "You…you're going to—"

Racingpaw cut him off. Leaning forward, his green eyes glittering with pain and something edged like hunger, he said again, "What do you need?"

* * *

**Wooo~ ****Only two more chapters left~**

**What up with the lack of reviews in all things Warriors these days? Has everyone moved on from this fandom or something? I don't particularly care about reviews since I write mostly for myself (and Fwirl) but it's just rather strange to me. All the fics I've been seeing are really low on review count. Peculiar. Very peculiar. **

**Anyway.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	8. Chapter 7

**Sorry I skipped last Sunday's chapter. My family's been hit pretty hard by two tragedies this week. My dad got laid off at his job and my grandpa had a bad fall and got put in the hospital, so my updating obviously was put on hold. To make up for it, this chapter is extra long. **

* * *

Cranepaw and Racingpaw got straight to planning after that. They spent endless days plotting and scheming, talking in whispers in the dead of night when they wouldn't be overheard. Everything they had wasn't going to work: pit-traps and luring Brokentail to ThunderClan territory and hoping they'd take care of him, trying to get him out on the moors or on the Thunderpath or—

"Argh." Cranepaw put his head in his paws, frustration surging along his pelt like an electric current. "This is impossible."

Racingpaw said smoothly, "It's not. We're just coming at it from the wrong angle. It has to be something that no one will suspect."

"Do you know how crazy you sound?"

"Think about it," Racingpaw insisted. His green eyes were reflecting the weak moonlight above the tattered thorn they were in. It was almost time for the next Gathering, when hopefully Brokentail would be dead. "We have to think like Brokentail. Now where does he go by himself that we can catch him?"

Cranepaw thought about that for a long moment. "He doesn't go anywhere by himself. He's always with Blackfoot."

"So we need to separate them." Racingpaw placed his paws close together, squinting down at them thoughtfully. "If we can lure Blackfoot away from Brokentail, then—" He jerked his paws apart, his claws digging into the soil.

"But _how? _We're going to need help. And no one's going to help us if we tell them what we're trying to do."

"There's someone we could ask." Racingpaw's eyes flashed up to Cranepaw's and away again. "If you…if you feel up for it."

Cranepaw's heart dropped. "You can't possibly mean—"

"Think about it, Cranepaw," he insisted again, leaning forward. "Everybody trusts her. No one would ever think she'd—"

"We are _not _involving Rosewing in this," Cranepaw hissed. "She just became a warrior. I'm not about to take that away from her. Are you?"

The thought of the gentle she-cat with her paws stained with blood—unimaginable. Cranepaw would rather die than force that kind of guilt onto her. Rosewing didn't have it in her to kill Brokentail—and Cranepaw didn't think he did, either. But for the good of ShadowClan—to free them from Brokentail's horrifying reign of future terror—he had to do something. He had to make a move.

Rosewing would be kept away from it, away from him. He'd already decided that a long time ago.

Racingpaw looked unhappy at that. He flipped his tail behind him, his mouth a soft frown. "Then my mother, maybe. Whitewind would—"

Cranepaw's head was aching as Racingpaw went over his plan, trying to find a solution. But nothing was going to work. They were either going to have to get lucky or they were going to fail. Failure couldn't happen—it couldn't. For Silversong.

Eventually, they had to return. Training would begin at dawn again. Even though their mentors had been really nailing down on their training—it was almost time for them to get their names, after all—Cranepaw and Racingpaw had managed to keep on track, despite their nighttime planning.

The apprentice's den felt very hollow and lonely without Rosewing. Wetpaw and Brownpaw were the newest addition—Featherstorm's kits—but they did little to fill the den. They were tiny, undersized.

Raggedstar, who had grown more suspicious and twitchy all of a sudden, had given them their apprentice names two moons too early, listening to Brokentail's advice. Why, Cranepaw didn't know. Perhaps it was because of Cloudpelt's recent battle with whitecough. The elders were already whispering that the deputy wasn't going to make it, that he was too old to combat the strength of the illness. Runningnose was trying his best to stave it off but he was barely a medicine cat.

Featherwhisker, the medicine cat of ThunderClan, had apparently taken pity on the poor cat and come to escort him to the Moonstone for his name. Yellowfang was still missing, though Cranepaw had heard rumors she was holing up somewhere in ThunderClan territory. He hoped she was okay, especially since leaf-bare was on its way. Prey would be fine for ShadowClan—they had Carrionplace, after all—but he didn't know how ThunderClan would fare.

Wetpaw stirred as Cranepaw settled into his nest, his small round face fuzzy with sleep. "Cranepaw?"

"Yeah?"

Wetpaw yawned, his tongue curling. "Where did you go?"

"Uh." Cranepaw exchanged a quick glance with Racingpaw, who made a frantic gesture with one paw. "We were…collecting herbs for Runningnose. They need to be picked at night, otherwise they're no good."

Maybe it was the lateness of the night or the fact that he was barely conscious, but Wetpaw accepted that without question. His head thudded back down in his nest and he curled his dark brown tail close. He was asleep a few heartbeats later.

Cranepaw let out a short breath of relief. The fewer cats who knew what was going on, he thought as he circled into his nest, the better.

XXXXXXXXX

"Wake up." The voice wasn't Racingpaw's or one of the younger apprentices. It was Rosewing.

As Cranepaw struggled to his paws, highly conscious of the fact that the fur on his head was standing straight up and his whiskers were plastered to the side of his face, Rosewing waited patiently in the entrance. Racingpaw, Wetpaw, and Brownpaw were already gone.

"What's going on?" Cranepaw mumbled, trying to quickly fix his fur with a few swift licks.

Rosewing's eyes were somber. "Cloudpelt's dead," she said shortly, disappearing back into the clearing.

Cranepaw's heart froze. Without another lick, he scrambled out of the den, loping up beside Rosewing.

Cloudpelt's body lay in the middle of the camp. The elders had already arranged his limbs into a natural position. It looked like he was simply sleeping, if not for the crust of sickness that still clung to the corners of his eyes and nose, and the fact that his chest was completely, chillingly still.

Cranepaw couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched, mouth gaping, as Runningnose stepped forward, towards Raggedstar. The leader was staring at his deputy's body, looking like he couldn't believe his eyes. The expression made Raggedstar seem very old, very weak: something Cranepaw had never thought him before. Even now he could pick out the gray hairs on his leader's muzzle, which seemed even more prominent than before.

Crowtail and Nightpelt were beside Cranepaw, bending down to press gently licks against Cloudpelt's cold fur.

"He was a good warrior," Nightpelt said, his voice low. "A good friend. He always wanted the best for ShadowClan."

"He was my first apprentice," Crowtail said, and she sounded sad and soft for the first time. Sorrow surged in her eyes. "Little Cloudpaw. I never thought he would be good because of his white pelt but he showed me. He showed all of us what it meant to be a true warrior of ShadowClan."

The elders rubbed Cloudpelt's fur with sweet-smelling herbs but it didn't completely cover the bitter scent of sickness. Cranepaw stared, aghast. How had the deputy's illness gotten so bad that no one noticed? That no one tried to help him?

Clearly he wasn't the only one thinking that.

Crowtail had pulled herself out of her grief and turned blazing eyes on Runningnose. "Why didn't you heal him?" she demanded, her fur riled up along her back. "You could have cured him! Why didn't you?"

Runningnose's eyes went wide. "I-I did the best I could! He was just sick, so sick—"

"Yellowfang could have fixed him!"

"Don't you dare mention her name!" Brightflower went to Runningnose's side, pulling the young tom against her flank like a mother would. Glaring at Crowtail, she spat, "That traitor would have killed Cloudpelt just to spite ShadowClan! Runningnose tried his hardest but StarClan wanted Cloudpelt. That's the only option I see."

"Or Runningnose is just incompetent," Archeye spat. He eyed the medicine cat with distaste. "Cloudpelt was too young to die. He could have been the next leader of ShadowClan!"

"Cloudstar," Crowtail said softly, so quietly that Cranepaw wasn't sure anyone else heard her. Her eyes were closed, her ears pinned back. Her fur was a darker shade than his, coal to his smoke. With her eyes shut, she looked more severe than usual, the bones of her face sticking through her fur.

Nightpelt touched her shoulder with his tail gently. "He didn't die painfully. It was easy. Like sleeping."

Crowtail nodded, her eyes still tightly closed. She didn't look comforted.

Nightpelt noticed, too. His eyes sparking with pity, he turned to Raggedstar. "A new deputy must be chosen."

"Yes," Blackfoot said, speaking up for the first time. He was standing beside Brokentail, who had been remarkably silent. "Before Cloudpelt's spirit has left us."

Brokentail wasn't looking at Cloudpelt; his eyes were on his father. With his head below his shoulders, his orange eyes burning like lit embers, he looked hungry, starving, but not in a normal way. His entire body was radiating tension, palpable as heat.

Cranepaw could barely stomach looking at him.

This was so much like when Foxheart died that Cranepaw felt sick. Brokentail had stared at his father this greedily then, too, before Foxheart's body had even gone cold. That same burning look. As Cranepaw watched, Brokentail even licked his lips, as if he were about to partake in a particularly juicy piece of prey.

Raggedstar nodded, his composure back. Now he looked more like the leader Cranepaw obeyed and respected. With a silky bound of dark, tattered fur, he sprang atop a low branch of the oak tree.

He looked up, even though it was morning. It was early, so a few stars were still out, though they were blanketed by a thick rolling bank of fog falling down across the marsh.

Cranepaw watched, holding his breath. _Nightpelt's been a good warrior, _he thought. _He's trained me and Brackenfoot and Brightflower. He's shown that he's a strong capable warrior. Raggedstar will surely pick him. _

The Clan gathered close—for warmth and for support. Cranepaw was pressed between Nightpelt and Whitewind, whose kits stayed tucked away in the nursery, away from the smell of death and the sight of an unmoving body. He turned to look over his shoulder at who lingered behind.

Crowtail didn't follow the rest of her Clanmates. She remained beside the body of her fallen apprentice, her nose in his fur. The motion, soft in the extreme, made her seem very old all of a sudden. Cranepaw had always thought her as hard and unyielding as leaf-bare's teeth but now she looked her age: a senior warrior. He half-expected her fur to gray beneath his gaze.

Racingpaw stood at her side, watching her face softly. After a moment, he leaned into her side.

Crowtail froze in place for a few tense heartbeats, then relaxed. She whisked her tail over the top of her apprentice's head, allowing his comfort.

_She really does care for him, _Cranepaw thought. _As much as she talks bad about him._

Raggedstar still had his head tipped back, staring up at the sky. It had clouded over even more, obscuring the waning stars from view. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful, his ears perked. Cranepaw wondered if he was talking to StarClan. Maybe the ancestors were whispering their choice for deputy into his awaiting ears.

He hoped they made the right decision.

Raggedstar's eyes opened. "I say these words before the body of Cloudpelt, that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice."

His gaze roved the crowd, not stopping on anyone. Not stopping on Nightpelt, who was looking up, hopeful expectation on his face.

Dread rolled through Cranepaw's belly.

Raggedstar's eyes went suddenly to one cat, fixing there, and he said, "The new deputy of ShadowClan will be Brokentail!"

_No! _Cranepaw howled internally, but even his horrified gasp was overlaid by Blackfoot, Clawface, and Stumpytail, who yowled, "Brokentail! Brokentail!" as if this was something to be celebrated and not the beginning of the end.

Brokentail caught Cranepaw's eyes through the press of bodies, his orange eyes shining. And in those eyes, shone the promise of murder.

Cranepaw didn't look away. Even as Racingpaw found him, standing close for comfort, he couldn't tear his eyes from Brokentail's goading face, his high tail, the arrogance in his eyes.

"Tonight," Cranepaw said, his voice an exhale. "We're going to make a plan tonight."

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Racingpaw nod. "Tonight," he agreed.

XXXXX

That night, they pored over their plans, and the night after, and the night after that. Two moons worth of nights, placing every detail in the exact right order, making certain that they had multiple backup plans.

The plot relied heavily on a single detail: getting Brokentail alone.

That was going to be harder this time around. As the new deputy, he was constantly surrounded by others: leading patrols, giving commands, making sure the apprentices were coming along well. Even as Raggedstar deteriorated.

The Clan was concerned. Raggedstar had always been sound of mind. He was a cunning leader, cold in the way that ShadowClan preferred their leaders. So why was he suddenly acting like he was losing his mind?

It had started a few nights after Brokentail had been selected. Raggedstar had been out in the camp, looking for fresh-kill. After poring over the contents of the pile for far too long, he'd simply walked away with nothing, his tail low and drooping.

And then there had been last night. Cranepaw had been on Raggedstar's patrol, with Runningpaw, Nightpelt, and Crowtail. It had been their last patrol as apprentices. Their names were supposed to be announced the next night.

Raggedstar had been twitchy. He'd kept looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. His footsteps had been noisy and classless, like a duck's waddling.

Nightpelt had obviously noticed, too. "Is there something wrong, Raggedstar?"

Raggedstar had stared at him in horror, his pelt spiked. "What makes you think that?"

"You seem…uneasy."

Raggedstar had shaken his head quickly. "Hardly. Hardly. No, my sleep has been…interrupted. I will speak with Runningnose about it at a later time, thank you. There is no need to worry over me."

He'd finished the patrol, approving Cranepaw's and Racingpaw's training, and vanished back into his den, promising that their names would be soon in coming.

Cranepaw was still not pleased. Something was clearly up with Raggedstar: something he couldn't put his paw on.

_ Maybe he's paranoid about Brokentail. _He wanted to think that so badly but he couldn't even convince himself of it. There was no way Raggedstar would suspect Brokentail. Brokentail was his beloved son, his only kit. That was why he'd selected him as his deputy, so his bloodline could lead ShadowClan's next generation.

_Then what? _WindClan had been silently starving. At the last Gathering, Racingpaw had told Cranepaw how thin they appeared, like they were nothing but twigs. ShadowClan had been hunting steadily on WindClan territory and judging by Racingpaw's appraisal of RiverClan, they had, too.

It made sense. WindClan were the weakest Clan. So they should toughen up. If that meant being a little hungry during the first breath of leaf-bare, so be it. Cranepaw, as a ShadowClan apprentice, had no pity for weaklings.

Nightpelt called across the clearing to Cranepaw to join the sunhigh patrol. Brokentail was waiting beside him, as was Brackenfoot and Yarrowstripe.

Brokentail looked displeased. "No, Cranepaw will be helping Runningnose clean the dens today. It's been decided."

"Come now, Brokentail," Brackenfoot said amiably. "You can't expect Cranepaw to do the younger cats' work. Brownpaw and Wetpaw have that under control. They've been apprentices for only three moons. Cranepaw will have his name soon."

Cranepaw's little bubble of pride was immediately burst by Brokentail's grumbled reply. "Well, he doesn't have it yet, and until he does, he's an apprentice. But fine, whatever. Bring him along. Let him see how the real warriors of ShadowClan protect their borders." He turned away before he could see the outrage on Cranepaw's face.

Yarrowstripe waited until the rest of the patrol had left before whispering in Cranepaw's ear, "Don't listen to him. He's concerned about his father."

_Hardly. _Brokentail had shown no anxiety over his father's illness. He'd been completely immersed in his deputyship. He took to it like a bird to flight, ordering with clean, swift commands. Even Cranepaw, extraordinarily begrudgingly, had to admit that he made a better deputy than Cloudpelt had been.

Nightpelt seemed convinced that Brokentail was a good deputy. He hadn't shown any jealousy that the much younger cat had beaten him out of the position. In fact, he'd done nothing but support Brokentail. If Cranepaw made any remarks to the contrary, he was met with a sharp reprimand.

Cranepaw learned to quickly keep his mind and mouth to himself, though he hid nothing from Racingpaw.

They reached the ThunderClan border. They had inherited a new leader a few moons back, the sleek blue-gray deputy Bluefur. Bluestar, he supposed now, had kept herself and her Clan silent in their forest. For now. He knew how quickly ThunderClan could turn their attentions to ShadowClan, and it would take barely more than a toe out of line before they came down on ShadowClan with claws and teeth flashing. They would use any excuse to attack and weaken their betters.

Brokentail stopped them at the edge of the Thunderpath. He raised his nose in the air, his whiskers twitching. "Do you smell that?"

Cranepaw sniffed but he couldn't detect anything.

Brackenfoot seemed to be thinking similarly. "I can't smell a thing."

Yarrowstripe, his dark fur gleaming as he stalked forward, stopped at the Thunderpath, his body tense. His shoulders were still as ice. "I smell blood," he said, sounding aghast. "Fresh. Cat. ShadowClan."

Nightpelt joined him, as did Cranepaw, until the whole patrol crouched at the border. "Impossible," Nightpelt whispered, his eyes very wide. "ThunderClan wouldn't—"

"Let's go," Brokentail growled, already heading towards the secret tunnel beneath the roaring black path.

"No!" Yarrowstripe leapt in front of him, his eyes wide. His fur was prickled up along his spine with unease, his tabby stripes blurring into a shadow across his back. "We should go alert Raggedstar. If this really is one of our cats—"

"You smelled it yourself," Brackenfoot pointed out, his tail lashing. "We have to act now."

Brokentail flashed him a confirming look. "He's right. Let's go."

Nightpelt hesitated, looking uneasily to Cranepaw. "I don't think that's the best idea. I vote that we wait."

"There is no voting." Brokentail's voice was flat. "There's Raggedstar's word and there's my word. And right now, there's only mine. So let's go." His orange eyes flashed like lightning between them, daring them to speak up.

There was no more arguing after that.

ThunderClan territory was foreign and dry beneath Cranepaw's pads. He felt the oppressive weight of the space pressing in on him. It was too open there. Like WindClan. The trees were far too far apart, which left large gaps of emptiness for them to just walk through. The grass was soft beneath his paws but that did not soothe him from the overriding thought that this was _wrong. _They shouldn't be here. This was not friendly territory.

The scent of blood intensified.

Yarrowstripe, the best tracker, led the way. His pawsteps were light as falling leaves as he padded along, his nose on the ground. His eyes were yellow slits as he concentrated.

He led them towards Fourtrees. Unerringly crossing around trunks and leaping up over fallen branches, he walked on, leaving the rest of them to follow, low and lithe.

_It must be Yellowfang, _was Cranepaw's overwhelming thought. He felt sick. The old she-cat must have proven herself to be unable to survive without a Clan to protect her, even with her warrior training.

And he felt sad for her. Sad that it had to be that way. Sad that Yellowfang had been blamed for something she didn't do, for she certainly did not kill Volepaw and Mosspaw. No, he thought, his eyes cutting to Brokentail. It had not been Yellowfang whose paws had been stained with young blood.

Yarrowstripe stopped dead. Brackenfoot actually ran into his haunches from the suddenness of it. "StarClan," he breathed, horror choking his voice.

"What is it?" Nightpelt shoved his way between the two warriors. His fur fluffed out to twice its usual size in an instant. Fear rolled off him in a sickly wave.

"What? What's wrong? Did you find it?" Brokentail pushed his way to the front and Cranepaw followed in his wake; he noticed distantly that his and Brokentail's shoulders were almost equal in height as he went.

In front of Yarrowstripe, curled in the dust like an apprentice and covered with dozens of deep wounds, was a cat. If Cranepaw hadn't recognized him immediately by his dark tabby fur, the scent of his blood would have given it away.

It was Raggedstar.

XXXXXXX

It was night. Cranepaw waited up in the tree where he'd once called Rosewing beautiful and almost told her he loved her, holding completely still. He knew he was nearly invisible. He knew he wouldn't be spotted.

And he knew Brokentail was on his way here.

He would walk right past this way, on his way to the Moonstone. There, he would receive his nine lives. He would become Brokenstar.

Cranepaw wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. Not for his mother or Volepaw and Mosspaw or Raggedstar or for the whole of ShadowClan. Brokentail would lead them to ruin. He would bathe in innocent ShadowClan blood without a trace of regret.

And now they had begun their plan.

Racingpaw was already in motion. His job was to distract Runningnose, to make him believe he had something horribly, terribly wrong with him. Racingpaw was a good actor: he could pull it off. He would have to convince Brokentail to leave them behind and go on his way, alone.

And then Cranepaw would strike.

Cranepaw was taking deep, steadying breaths. Brokentail would be here soon. He would have to be completely focused to make sure everything went as planned. One mistake, one screw-up, and they'd be banished from the Clan.

Not that that wasn't a good option. But Cranepaw didn't want to leave Rosewing behind. Not now. Not yet. Not before he'd had a chance to tell her everything.

There was a rustling noise and Brokentail appeared. He pushed his scarred nose through the brambles and stepped forward, pulling his entire body into view.

Just a few more pawsteps and—

"Wait! Brokentail!" Runningnose came running into view, panting heavily. He sat down and gasped, his eyes streaming, his nose running as usual.

Cranepaw sank his claws into the bark. _Why? _Why hadn't Racingpaw stopped him? Now they were going to lose their only chance!

He couldn't attack Brokentail in full view of Runningnose. Murder was already against the warrior code, but murder in front of a medicine cat seemed like another tier of condemnation.

Fury flashed through him, hot and wild as a fire. Their only chance was lost.

They were nearly beneath the tree now, walking quickly. Cranepaw had only heartbeats to figure out what he was going to do.

Suddenly, there was a sound. A high yowling cry.

Brokentail let out a hiss of frustration, wheeling in its direction. "If that's Racingpaw again, I swear I'll—"

"Let me deal with my brother, Brokentail," Runningnose said, sounding uncharacteristically serious. His walk was stiff as he turned around. "Please wait here."

"I don't have time for this! We'll miss moonhigh! I will not have my lives ceremony ruined by a stupid apprentice!" He lashed out at a thorn bush, snarling his fury.

Runningnose said once more, "Please wait. I'll return shortly." Then he disappeared into the undergrowth.

_Now. _There was no more time for waiting. No more distraction. It was act now or let the Clan suffer nine lives' worth of horrors.

Cranepaw bunched his legs beneath him and _sprang. _

He landed on Brokentail's back, making the older cat howl in surprise. He was surprisingly wiry and tough. His body jerked beneath Cranepaw as he struggled to hold on. With one huge lunge, Cranepaw was bucked off.

He landed heavily in the dirt, his breath gone.

_"You." _Brokentail's orange eyes were insane, twin flames. His nostrils flared. Every hair on his pelt was up. "How _dare _you attack me! Are you out of your _mind? _Do you not know who I _am?" _

"You're a murderer," Cranepaw snarled. He pushed himself to his paws, readying his stance. His head fell below his shoulders as he growled, baring his teeth. "You killed my mother, your apprentice, his brother. Even your own father."

Brokentail laughed. The sound was painful. "You really believe that, do you? And how do you know?"

"I heard you," Cranepaw growled low in his throat. "You told Blackfoot that you would cleanse the Clan. That you'd relocate anyone who got in your way."

"Ah." And now Brokentail leaned back, his chin raised. "So you did hear me. I thought I scented you that night. I knew you wouldn't leave me alone after your mother—"

_"Don't you speak of her!" _Cranepaw yowled. "Don't you dare talk about Silversong, you murderer!"

"And what will you do?" Brokentail bared his fangs, which were yellow and uneven like Yellowfang's. "Tell the Clan? Warn me off? Go ahead. StarClan have appointed me as deputy for a reason, you mewling kit! And I will not have you get between me and my destiny!" He raised a paw back, his claws glittering like ice.

Cranepaw didn't even have time to move.

Suddenly, Brokentail screamed. Blood welled and ran down his face, staining his dark fur, his whiskers, his lips.

On his back was Racingpaw. He'd dug in his claws and wouldn't let go.

Cranepaw joined him, howling his fury. He swung himself up on Brokentail's back, digging his claws into the deputy's back again and again, feeling the satisfying rip of fur and skin. Blood blossomed in his nose as Brokentail's paw connected with Cranepaw's face but he didn't care. Sniffling, Cranepaw held his breath and sank in his teeth, tasting Brokentail's blood.

He was flung from his back as Brokentail twisted sharply. His back hit a tree and he fell, half-senseless to the ground, stars spinning in his vision.

When his eyes cleared, he saw Brokentail had Racingpaw pinned with both forepaws. He was blinking blood out of his eyes.

"You haven't learned," Brokentail hissed but he was talking to Cranepaw. "You won't learn. I have tried again and again to get rid of you, you stupid apprentice, but you simply do not get the hint. I will have to use force to teach you your lesson."

Racingpaw was struggling beneath Brokentail's crushing weight. "Cranepaw!" he yowled, his eyes finding Cranepaw's across the distance. Fear sparked there, light heat-lightning. "Cranepaw, don't—"

Before Cranepaw could move, before he could even shout back to his friend, Brokentail's head descended.

There was a gurgled keen and a sharp snapping sound, and then everything was silent.

Brokentail stepped off of Racingpaw chest, his expression disgusted. Cranepaw watched, unable to believe it, unable to tear his eyes away, as Racingpaw lay there, completely still, immobile as ice.

He was dead.

* * *

**Sorry, readers, but he had to go. Now Cranepaw has nothing to lose!**

**And to the question, yes, I made up a few of these characters, but the rest really were ShadowClan warriors. I use the Warriors Wiki to make my list. The time's a bit off but whatever. I wasn't aiming for perfection. Perfection's booo-ring. XD**

**Anyway, you know what to do.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


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